


Coming to Terms

by gtgrandom



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Lance, Canon Universe, Cuban Lance, Eventual Smut, Fanart, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fix-it fic, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Insecure Lance, Lance's family - Freeform, M/M, Minor Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Mutual Pining, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post Season 6, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Space Dad Shiro, bed sharing tropes everywhere, broganes, cheeky krolia, klance, seriously lance is so oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-05-28 01:18:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 124,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15037550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gtgrandom/pseuds/gtgrandom
Summary: Once again, there are six paladins and five lions. As the team makes their way home to Earth, Lance musters the strength to say goodbye to his friends.  Klance-centric, minor Adashi/Shadam.Or - Keith has lots of feelings and Lance wants to leave the team.(The S7 and S8 that could have been)+ fanart





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (EDIT: This fic has turned into a monster. Chapters grow progressively longer. I do not recommend starting late at night. Take care of yourselves!)
> 
> I honestly never thought I would write a klance fic lmao. After a few brutal experiences, I only allow myself to get invested in relationships with canon evidence, especially with my lgbt ships.
> 
> Klance is right on the edge of canon, but I just can't help myself this time. They're too perfect, and I'm interaction-starved. So here's a multi-chapter fic highlighting the kind of direction I hope the show takes next season (plus some tropey nonsense of course). 
> 
> I have no update schedule, but I really hope I can kick this out before my last semester of college. I also have a habit of taking very long hiatuses, so feedback/criticism/kudos will make a big difference. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Lance sat on the windowsill, watching Pidge pry another story out of Keith about the time he’d spent in the quantum abyss.  Keith indulged her, albeit unenthusiastically.

It had been a slow process trying to get back to Earth. With no ship, they had no Teludav, and with no Teludav, they had no way to create a wormhole.  So they’d been traveling for weeks by lion, leapfrogging planet to planet for pit stops.   

Meanwhile, news of Lotor’s demise had spread through the galaxy, and while it had bolstered faith in Voltron, it had also cut ties with most of their Galran allies, save for Commander Bogh’s forces and of course, the Blade.   Sendak and his Fire of Purification squad had already retaken a number of planets. 

Not to mention Haggar was still out there, scheming.

This war was far from over. 

But Voltron needed a new ship.  And a vacation.  And hell, Lance was antsy to see his family.  To smell and taste the sea salt in the air, to see familiar faces in the streets—human faces.

Like Marco and Veronica.  Jessica. Luis. Mom.  Grandma.

His niece and nephew. 

Even the street hecklers.

He never thought he’d miss everyone this much.

He hoped his mom didn’t hate him for leaving. He knew she probably did. But at least Holt would have delivered Lance’s message by now.  And maybe his sincere apology would quell her fury.

“What were the insects like?” Pidge asked.

“What.”

“The insects? Were they like arthropods? Did they look uniform…endemic? Or were they parasitic, like they all came from different planets?”

Keith sighed, and Lance could hear the sharp edge of exasperation in his voice.  Unfortunately, Pidge understood machines far better than humans.  “They looked native…endemic. I guess.  But they pretty much looked like anything else I’ve seen. Just…more colorful.”

Lance had been right about Keith being…bigger.  The knobby knees and elbows had been swallowed by lean muscle.  His shoulders were broader now—he hadn’t been wearing his old jacket, and Lance suspected it had more to do with a change in size than it did a change in taste.  Keith had also returned with a new sense of confidence and mellowness, the kind that only time can cultivate.

Lance tore his gaze away.

Keith had aged two years.

He’d been _gone_ two years.  

But it had been nothing for the rest of them.  Keith had just been absent for a few months, consumed by his missions with the Blade, or so they had thought.   

Then he’d shown up like _this_.

Changed.

The disconnect showed between Keith and the rest of Voltron.  He was older now.  More mature.  He’d changed too rapidly for the team.

Yeah, Keith still pulsed with impatience and anger at times, but his outbursts were less volatile.    He didn’t rise to the bait like he once did, he just smirked or blatantly ignored any provocation.  And Lance didn’t know what to do with that.  None of them did. 

Instead of the emo edgelord that spent all his time in his room, New Keith had spent a great deal of time catching up with the team and actively participating in planning the route back to earth.   It was like no one knew him anymore. 

Sometimes Lance wondered if any of them ever really _had_.

The exception of course being Shiro.

The bond between them was stronger than ever.  The first few days after Shiro's return, Keith had been at Shiro’s bedside twenty-four-seven, watching over him, making jokes about the new scar on his face, holding Shiro’s good hand.  Lance didn’t have a detailed account of what happened that night, but whatever they’d been through had brought them even closer than before.  Lance had once been jealous of that bond, of Shiro’s subtle favoritism, but now, he understood that what they had surpassed friendship and the network of this team. 

And now, between Shiro and Krolia and Keith’s new wolf-dog, it looked like they’d formed their own family.  A unit within the unit. 

Lance was happy for Keith, and he hoped he would stay—for Voltron’s sake.  After all, it was under Keith’s leadership that they’d rescued Shiro and defeated Lotor.  And with him and Shiro practically sharing one mind…what better duo existed for the Red and Black Lions?

With Shiro’s patience and logic, and Keith’s passion and quick thinking, they would balance each other out, balance the _team_ out.  

It was an ideal partnership, and it reassured Lance that his absence would not hinder the team’s progress.

Besides.  It’s not like the team needed him anyway.  He was just a fill-in-the-blank guy.  He filled the role the team needed when Shiro or Allura or Hunk wasn’t there to deliver the same sentiment.

Everyone else had a fixed role—tech wizards, leaders, hopeful enthusiasts.  Shiro would lead.  Keith, his fiery right hand.  Pidge and Hunk would keep the team together, fill the empty spaces with their brain power and wholesome troublemaking.  Allura and Coran and would continue navigating a world of magic and technology, guiding the team to victory.

And Lance?

Lance could finally go home.

 

* * *

  

Keith was glad to be back. 

He and Krolia had reported back to the Blade on their mission to find the enriched quintessence.  They’d requested a leave of absence to visit Earth, and although Kolivan hadn’t liked the idea, he’d permitted the vacation with little resistance, most likely due to Lotor’s disappearance and the impending collapse of the Galran Empire.  He’d still thrown in a “two years not enough?” quip, as expected.

Now it was just a game of hopscotch to get Voltron back to the Milky Way. 

And Keith _hated_ road trips.

Confined spaces, blurry scenery, motion sickness.  Too much chatter.

But it wasn’t so bad.  His mother was here, and she granted him plenty of space. Blue, the cosmic wolf, was also a silent companion that Keith treasured.  And Shiro...

Shiro was alive and recovering.  It had taken a few days to calm him down about their fight, and Keith still caught him staring guiltily at the new scar on his cheek.  But it didn't take long for the man to get back on his feet, hovering over Keith like a second mother, brimful of gratitude and fatherly praise.  If Keith had to hear Shiro tell his mother one more _fucking_ story about his childhood—

At least Hunk and Pidge were putting together a new arm for him, so Shiro could finally start piloting the Black Lion again, and Keith could have someone else take the wheel when his legs cramped up on this goddamn space hike. 

Keith glanced back at Pidge, but she was still ranting about the titanic whales.  

"...wonder how they migrated there. Did a planet like explode, and the algae or bacteria just got ejected into space somehow? Then it splattered on the whales and started evolving?"

"Pidge, that doesn't make any sense."

"Neither do titanic whales in space!"

Keith shared a look with his mother, and a soft grin lit her face.  

It had been strange, living with such small company for two years only to return to find that no time had passed.  Suddenly his friends were younger, sillier.  Unfocused. 

Keith could sympathize with Shiro trying to lead these kids on a mission.  How they'd ever gotten anything done was a mystery to Keith.  

Keith's eyes slid to Lance, where he sat at the window sill, staring blankly into space. 

That relationship in particular seemed to have shifted the most.

Their historic bickering seemed so…inconsequential now.  Lance still grated his nerves, but it was almost…endearing, the way he tried to communicate through jabs and taunts.  Keith couldn’t tell if he’d just missed Lance over those two years and welcomed the behavior, or if the insults just didn’t affect him the way they once did.  

Keith suspected it was probably a mix of both.

Keith had seen a lot in the quantum abyss, past and future moments, on and off again for two years.  He’d had a lot of time to reflect on who he was—who he wanted to be.  He’d relived many moments with Lance, and he’d seen glimpses of a future where they had become better friends.  Better teammates. 

He’d seen himself piloting the Black Lion, Lance as his second.  They’d still taken shots at one another, but it had felt different.  Almost familial.  Or…even…

Whatever those visions had held, Keith had decided their rivalry needed to end.  It was only holding them back.  From now on, Lance would have to find a new way of engaging with Keith, and hopefully a proper friendship could manifest. 

Of course, that would require Lance to talk to him first.

He studied the boy in the corner, separated from the team.  He was paler than Keith remembered.  He also had bags under his eyes, which surprised Keith the most, considering Lance's elaborate skin care routine.

Each day that passed, Lance appeared to take one step back from the team, away from his friends.  He’d left Keith in the spotlight shortly after Shiro's revival, never once taking his place at the podium or attempting to boost his own ego.  It was disconcerting.

Keith had thought Lance was just guilty about the entire Shiro thing, but Shiro assured him they’d talked it out.  Maybe Lance was just nervous to go home?

He watched Lance sigh quietly, and their eyes locked from across the room.  Keith didn’t pull away like he might have once. He frowned instead, trying to decipher Lance’s mood, but Lance broke the contact too quickly.

He was already walking away before Keith could say anything.

 

* * *

 

 Lance crept out of his room.  It was too big. Too spacey.  He was used to the small cot in the Castle, and before that, the barracks at the Garrison, and before that…his bunkbed with his older brother, Marco.   Lance remembered turning the bunk into a fort when he was young, stockpiling snacks and drinks in their own imaginary space pod. 

Even back then, he’d known he wanted to be a pilot.

He’d just never anticipated he would have to be so far from home.

Biting his cheek, he made his way through the giant hallways, feet cushioned by his old blue slippers.

A hospitable planet had cleared an entire building to host Voltron and their friends.  The residents had called their presence an honor, showering the team with gifts and an incredible feast that for once did not consist of space goo.  

Once, Lance would have basked in that glory.  He would have bragged about Voltron’s exploits and flexed his arms for the crowd.  Snuck out to explore the night life and maybe pick up a girl or two.

But now….all he cared about was getting home.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Earth.  Her colors.  Her lovely plainness.  The warm sand beneath his feet and the comfort of familiarity…of acquaintance.   He _knew_ Earth.  He knew which animals would bite and which ones to throw a bone.  He knew what to eat, where to swim, how to breathe. 

They were such simple things, but they were things he’d taken for granted.

Sleepy but sleepless, Lance wandered to the courtyard, where the military kept watch over the lions.   He nodded at the guards in thanks, and the giant humanoid creatures bowed their heads and backed away to give him privacy.

Lance looked up at Red, sticking his hands in his jacket pockets.

“You tired, buddy?”

The lion just stared at him blankly, eyes dead to the world.

Sometimes Lance wondered just how sophisticated these lions really were.  Were they alive?  Were they really  _sentient_?  

They certainly seemed to have a will of their own. 

“Road trips suck, huh?” he muttered.  He didn’t bother deactivating the force field.  It would just tempt him to board the lion and take off.   He sat at the foot of the craft instead, staring up at his friend, his _partner_.   “Allura called you unstable, did you know that? Said you were the most difficult lion to master because you’re so temperamental.”

The headlights flickered irritably, and Lance grinned.  “I mean, you definitely didn’t welcome me with open arms.” Lance remembered trying to tame the lion for weeks.  He’d gotten banged up in the cockpit more than once.  “But I earned your respect eventually, didn’t I?”

The eyes glowed solid yellow, a signal Lance loosely interpreted as _affirmative_.

“Yeah.  But now...now I’m not sure I deserved it,” Lance confessed, looking down. “I’m grateful for what you gave me.  For the strength.  I was finally starting to feel…worthy.”  He’d gotten a sword and everything.  The upgrade, the lion’s cooperation—it had all made him feel _important_. “I don’t want to leave you, Red, but you and I both know I was just a substitute.  Keith’s more of a hot-head like you anyway—you remember.  You’ll be in good hands.”

The lights faded sadly, and Lance bit his lip. 

“Take care of them for me, Red.” 

He hoped the lion would still let him in come morning.  If not, he supposed it would present a good opportunity to transition Shiro and Keith back into their rightful roles without having to explain why. 

“Lance?”  

Lance stilled, glancing over his shoulder. Keith stood there in his old gray shirt and black pants, staring at him in confusion.

“What are you doing out here?”

Lance looked away, shrugging. “Couldn’t sleep.”  He waited for Keith’s footsteps to signal that he’d gone away, but Keith didn’t leave.  “What about you?  Is your sleep cycle still off?” 

Keith revealed that the quantum abyss had screwed with his circadian rhythm.  He’d taken six days to wake up on schedule, and he still passed out in the middle of group discussions now and again.  Lance would never admit it, but the way Keith fought so hard to stay awake—blinking rapidly, squinting intensely, jerking upright every time he started to nod off and pretending nothing happened—that shit was cute.  

“Lance…what’s wrong?”

Lance’s gaze flicked up to the displeasure on Keith’s face. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’ve been acting weird since I got back.”

Lance hated that the attention warmed his blood.  “How have I been acting weird?”

Keith opened his palm to the sky.  “You’ve been less… _you._   No more sarcastic comments.  No biting remarks.  No flirting.  You’ve hardly even spent any time with the group.” Keith narrowed his eyes. “What happened when I was gone?”

God, what _hadn’t_ happened?

Allura had unintentionally bruised him in a place deep inside his chest, and his world had faded to a pathetic shade of gray.   Lance had failed to protect the team from Lotor. He’d failed to see the enemy in Shiro.

And Keith…Keith had always been a constant on this journey.  He was the person Lance could start a fight with, butt heads with, ridicule.  He was a means for Lance to normalize events that were anything but normal.  And towards the end, when Keith had become leader, Lance had gone to him for help, for advice.  He’d become his friend.

And then he’d left.

He’d left Lance with a Shiro that was never Shiro and an Allura consumed by all things Lotor.  Even Pidge had been busy with family matters. Keith left, and Lance had scrambled to keep the team together.

But Lance didn’t resent him for it.  He just wished it would have been him instead.

Maybe then Keith would have realized Shiro wasn’t himself, and Lotor would never have wormed his way into their lives.

“A lot of things happened,” Lance said finally. “Shiro died and came back.  You came back completely different, and you brought along an Altean and your hot mom.  Lotor was our enemy and then our friend and then our enemy again.  We lost the Castle.  A lot has changed.  A lot _is going_ to change.”

Keith didn’t seem satisfied with that response, but Lance wasn’t keen on opening up to him further.  He’d opened up to Keith once about his concerns, and while Keith had assured him things would work out, he’d never offered a solution.  Now, Lance had a solution of his own.

“I’m not completely different,” Keith protested, and then his eyes narrowed dangerously. “And don’t call my mom hot.”

“You are. And she _is_.”

“How?” Keith cried.

“She’s got nice eyes, and a pretty great—”

“ _No_. How am I _different_?”

Wasn’t it obvious?  “I don’t know,” Lance said.  “You’re…calmer.  You take charge without hesitating.  You’re less _you_.”  Keith’s brow furrowed at his own words. “Plus…”

Lance shut his mouth before _that_ slipped out.

“Plus?” Keith prompted.

Lance rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up. “And your shoulders are _huge,_ okay!  Did you take _steroids_ in the quantum abyss or something?  You’re jacked, dude.” 

It was pretty unfair, actually.  How was Lance ever supposed to compete with him _now_?

Keith stared at him for a while, his mouth slightly parted—in awe or bemusement, Lance wasn’t sure. 

But then he cracked a smile, a smile Lance hadn’t seen in a long time. And somehow, Lance found himself grinning back.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support so far! I definitely didn't expect that kind of response with a rather mundane kick-start.

 

Luckily Red hadn’t exiled him or Kaltenecker, but Lance could feel the wary distrust within the machine.  He tried to tell himself it was the right choice, distancing himself from the Lion, making his intentions clear, but it still made his chest ache.

They landed on a forested moon for the evening, and Lance got out to stretch his legs.  Krolia and Shiro were off on their own, probably talking about what a problem-child Keith was or something.  Coran was busy gushing about Altean culture with Romelle, and the woman looked a little overwhelmed. 

Lance could relate, of course.  He too had been thrust into the task of saving the universe from ruthless dictators.  He too had left his planet and people behind. 

He studied the Altean curiously.  

Romelle was cute. There was no denying that.  Blonde.  Nice violet eyes.  

She was soft, _sweet_ , but the pads of her fingers pulsed with anger and righteousness, much like Allura’s did.   

Once, Lance would have puffed his chest and fashioned a sly smile, but he just didn’t have the energy.

Or, Lance realized suddenly, the _courage_. 

His heart was too damaged to play games.

Lance and the others sat around the campfire, fingers stretched to the warmth.  It had been a long eight hours in the lion, traveling at what Lance considered warp speed, even though Pidge had badgered him for hours on why it was definitely _not_ warp speed.  

A cool hand landed on Lance’s shoulder, and he glanced up at Allura.  “Princess?”

She smiled at him timidly, and he wished she didn’t have to look so _perfect_ all the time.  “Lance, do you think we could talk for a moment? In private?”

He gaped at her.  Then he shot to his feet. “Yeah. Of course. Lead the way.”

He felt Pidge, Hunk, and Keith’s eyes on his back as he followed her into the woods.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 They sat on the edge of a cliff, swinging their feet over the side.  There were two suns in the sky, setting simultaneously over the curve of the moon.   They painted the thin atmosphere a deep shade of red.

It sort of reminded Lance of Earth’s sunsets.  You know, minus the craters and the moon dust and…the _second_ sun…

“Lance,” Allura began, nervous, “I…I think I owe you an apology.”

“What?” Lance blinked out of his daze. “Why would you think that?”

She hesitated, and she stared at the barren ground far below them. “I’ve been informed of…of the feelings you harbor toward me.”

Lance froze.  Everything went cold—his fingers, his throat, the air in his chest.

“Feelings,” he repeated, breathless.  Refusing her eye contact.

“The mice…they said you…they said you _loved_ me.”

Lance dragged his eyes toward the Blue Lion, seething.  Goddamn _rodents_.   

This was never supposed to get out.  At least…not like this.  How long had she known?  For how long had he been flirting with her like a dumbass, transparent and pathetic?

He wished this moon had toxic geysers like the last planet, because he’d dive into one right about now.

“Is it true?” she asked, and he finally looked at her, stunned to see tears in her seawater eyes.

Lance sighed, crushing his eyes closed.  He didn’t have much of a choice here, did he?  He could lie.  Or he could move _forward_.

 “Yeah. It’s true.”

He peeked at her, and she looked up at the sky, her lip trembling.

The silence was suffocating. 

“Princess, you don’t have to say anything. I already know you don’t feel the same.”  It had been made stark clear when she’d skimmed over Lance and fallen in love with Lotor of all… _Galrans_.   And Lotor had confirmed as much in the wake of battle.  Allura had _loved_ him. 

If Allura had ever seen Lance romantically, he wouldn’t still be running in place.

She ran her nails along her armor, back and forth. “I always thought your flirting was just that. I thought it didn’t mean anything.”  She released a crisp breath between her lips. “I’ve been stringing you along.  And when I found out about your true feelings, I didn’t know what to do.  The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.”

Lance swallowed. The rejection was soft and pure, just like Allura.  He hated that he couldn’t hate her. 

“Lance,” she turned to face him. “I cannot return your feelings.  I’m afraid I just don’t…”

“You don’t see me that way,” Lance supplied, and she gazed at him, the tears spilling over her cheeks.

“Hey, hey, it’s _okay_ ,” he assured her.  He placed his hand over hers, like a band-aid, and she shook her head.

“It’s not okay.  You’ve been such a good friend to me this last year.  You’ve been there for me in my darkest hours.  And even when Lotor and I…”

“Yeah,” Lance cut in, grinning wryly as a bit of sarcasm resurfaced, “that was awful.  He was the worst. What were you _thinking_?”

“I wasn’t,” she admitted, chuckling.  She wiped her eyes with her free hand.   “I’m sorry I can’t reciprocate your feelings.  But I want you to know I cherish your friendship more than anything.  And I couldn’t bear to lose it.”

He smiled again, less forced this time. “You won’t.  I promise.”  Actually, when Lance thought about it, he’d probably rather have Allura as a lifelong friend anyway.  God knows he’d just fuck it up if he had an actual shot with her. 

And this way…this way he could say goodbye without feeling like he was letting an opportunity slip between his fingers. 

“Good.”  She breathed out shakily, gazing at him warmly.  “You have so much love in that heart of yours, Lance.  You deserve someone who will give their whole heart to you and everything in it.  You deserve to be someone’s first and only choice.”

She kissed his cheek, and he squeezed her hand in thanks, in _acceptance_.

Slowly, the cold began to thaw.

 

* * *

 

  

Lance lay on a blanket, staring up at the stars.  For a second, he wondered where the moon was, but then he remembered where he was, and his chest fell. 

Lately, that kind of disappointed realization struck more than he’d like to admit.

It was late.  Most of the team had crept to their respective sleeping bags and nodded off.  Except Keith.

Because he _had_ to flaunt about with his new muscles and chiseled jawline.

The dark-haired paladin appeared beside Red, leaning against the lion’s hind leg casually, like an old friend.   “Why aren’t you sleeping next to the fire like everyone else?”

“The smoke was giving me cancer," Lance muttered.

That wasn’t true. It was actually just making Lance homesick, but like hell he’d tell Keith that.

Lance thought maybe if he pretended to be asleep, Keith would go away.  But as Lance lay there, eyes closed, he could feel Keith’s gaze fix on him.

“What do you want, Keith?”

“I heard about Allura and Lotor.”

Lance glared up at him, but his gaze also carried dubious suspicion.   

“I’m sorry,” Keith said, stormy eyes wide and upturned.  His sincerity baffled Lance.  “Pidge told me you were taking it pretty hard.”

“Yeah, well.  I _was_.”

“And now?”

Lance wasn’t sure why Keith was so interested in his personal life all of a sudden, but it was not part of the upgraded Keith that he appreciated.  For once in his life, Lance didn't want attention, lest someone discover his intentions before he got back to Earth.  Lest they try and talk him out of it. 

Lance raised an irritated palm.  “ _Now..._?”

Keith looked uncomfortable. He crossed his arms.  “With Lotor out of the picture.  You and Allura…are you…you know…?”

Lance’s eyes widened.  “Together?”

Keith lifted a shoulder, trying to maintain his neutral expression.  But…under the mask, it almost looked like he was _jealous_.

_Unbelievable!_

Lance turned onto his stomach so he wouldn’t have to see the relief on Keith’s face.  “She let me down, asshole.  She’s available now.  Go ahead. I won’t stand in your way.”

“Stand in my…” Keith paused.  “Lance, are you _serious_?”  Lance peeked up at Keith through the pocket in his elbow.  The guy looked pissed. _Familiar_ , Lance amended, fighting a small smile.  _He looks familiar_.  “First of all, jackass, I wouldn’t do that to you.  I’m here to make sure you’re _okay_.  Second, I’m not even _into_ Allura.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Please. _Everyone’s_ into Allura. She’s everyone’s type.”

“Yeah well…not mine.”

“Do you even _have_ a type?” Lance had never seen Keith display interest in anyone.  Or _anything_.  But he wasn't cool enough to be asexual, either. 

Keith didn’t answer, which only piqued Lance's curiosity.

“Seriously. Do you just like Galrans or something?  Is it the purple skin?”

Keith glared at him so hard, Lance couldn’t help but grin a little.  _There_ was the Keith he knew—arms crossed, brow furrowed, bangs and mullet shadowing his face.  

Then the Black Paladin blinked, and his expression softened into something like resignation.  “Guys.  That’s my type.”

Lance looked up at him, squinting. “Huh?”

He most definitely heard that wrong.

Keith released a loaded breath. “I’m _gay_ , Lance.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's kind of a short update, and mostly Allurance-centric, but I just found out we're getting season 7 WAY sooner than I anticipated? And if I don't get rolling on this fic, canon's gonna bite me in the ass. So here ya go. A splatter of Klance-ness. 
> 
> Now with the exposition out of the way, we'll get into the story.


	3. Chapter 3

Lance stared at him, uncomprehending.

Keith was…

He was…

He bolted upright. “You’re _gay_?!!”

“ _Shh_.”  Keith rubbed the space between his eyes.  “The whole galaxy doesn’t need to know.”

“Wha…how did I not…?” Lance faltered, stumbling, crashing. Spinning through space.  “You’re really _gay_?”

“ _Really_.”

Lance cradled his head in his hands, like that alone would stop it from bursting open.  _What_.  All this time…?  This was like Pidge all over again.

Only for some reason, so much worse.

“It’s not that mind-blowing, Lance,” Keith muttered, his voice flat.

Keith was into guys.

Keith was into _guys_.

Had Lance really been so caught up in his rivalry with Keith—so intimidated by Keith’s standing with Shiro and Allura and the Lions—that he’d never even realized Keith had been an _option_?

Wait.

 _What_.

Lance shook the dangerous and _very_ disconcerting thought away.  He looked back up at Keith.

The boy stared at him, annoyed, blissfully unaware of Lance’s crisis.  But he also looked a bit tense, and Lance realized he needed to say something.  Coming out to a silent audience was like treading water in a shark’s hunting ground.

_Think of something. Anything._

Lance cleared his throat.  “Well…I guess I don’t have to worry about you wooing Allura then, huh?”

Keith’s face pinched with hurt, and his mouth curved into a deep scowl.

 _—Anything but that_! 

He turned on his heels, muttering a quiet, “Fuck you, Lance.”

 _Shit_.

 “Keith, wait,” Lance whisper-shouted, and Keith halted, hands clenched at his sides. “I’m…I didn’t mean to say that.  I’m just processing the fact that there’s another…” he swallowed, shaking his head like a boggle tray, searching for words.  “I just…I’m…bi?”

 _Quiznak_. Why had that been so hard to say?

And why did he phrase it like a question?!

Keith shot him the _most_ patronizing look he’d ever seen. “Uh, yeah. I know.”

“Wha…” The blow hit Lance in the sternum, knocking the wind out of his breath.  When he found his voice again, it was high-pitched and screechy.  “ _How do you know tha_ t?!”

“You flirt with anything that breathes.  I’m pretty sure the whole team knows.”

Lance supposed he _was_ pretty obvious about it—it wasn’t exactly something he tried to hide.  At least, not since leaving the Garrison.  When he saw a hot alien, he pursued, gender forgotten. And in all honesty, he couldn’t _differentiate_ between genders most of the time anyway. 

Maybe that was why it was so weird to express his sexuality in words.  Aliens didn’t ask about that kind of thing.  Aside from his closest relatives and friends, he’d never had to say it—it was a given.  He’d never _wanted_ to say it until this moment.

“Oh. That’s…”  Lance trailed off. He had no idea what to do or say next.  

_Treading water._

Keith shook his head and marched away impatiently.

“Wait! _Keith_ ,” Lance sat back on his heels when Keith paused again.  “Thanks…for telling me.”  Lance knew it took a lot of courage, especially to come out to a teammate, especially to  _Lance_ of all people.  It made him happy Keith trusted him with that knowledge.  “And you know, for checking up on me. And stuff.”

Keith waved at him dismissively as he walked back to the campfire.  A _shut up_ , kind of wave. 

 _Shut up_ , with a just bit of fondness thrown in the mix.

Lance lay back down, replaying every memory of Keith in his mind to figure out how he could have been so fucking blind.

 

* * *

 

Keith stared into the fire, his face flushed, body smoldering.  He wished he could blame it on the tongues of flame at his feet and not the flustered embarrassment in his veins.

Dammit.

That…had not gone according to plan.  He’d just meant to comfort Lance. To maybe establish the kind of partnership the visions had shown him—God knows Lance hadn’t made any effort these last few days.

And yeah, okay? He wanted to see if Lance was with Allura or not.

For _reasons_. Reasons he did not want to pick apart.  He already knew they were ugly.

So Keith had merely intended to express a few condolences and leave. He hadn’t meant to tell Lance his _sexuality_.  He definitely didn’t expect Lance to reciprocate by revealing his own. 

And what the hell had that breakdown been about? 

Hadn’t Lance ever suspected Keith was gay?  Hadn’t he heard the rumors back at the Garrison?  Why had he freaked out? 

Krolia suddenly jerked beside him, her eyes snapping open. She sighed, raking her bangs back from her face as she sat up.   Keith passed her a gentle, empathetic look.  “Bad?”

His mother nodded stiffly. “I’d woken up back in the abyss. Thought this entire thing had been another vision.”

Keith clasped her shoulder. “This is real.”

She gave him a small, broken smile, and she covered his hand with her own.

They’d both suffered from nightmares since getting back.  Keith had thought sleep would welcome him without the bright flashes invading his mind every few hours.  But the visions had followed him instead, like they’d been stained, imprinted on his brain.  Images of his father’s death haunted him, stills of the days spent in agony after he’d lost Shiro to the Kerberos mission, of Shiro’s eyes as he drove his blazing sword into Keith’s face. 

He heard the slurs the other students threw at him when they’d realized Keith was different.  The hatred that stemmed from jealousy and fear. The _incident_.

Flashes of the future.  Keith, spitting up blood that spotted the inside of his helmet, confident his end was imminent.  Shiro in a formal tux.  A Galran ship on earthen soil.  New faces and old friends. 

Pidge—a few feet taller, Bayard in hand, surrounded by an army. Hunk's arm draped over Shay's shoulders.  Coran dressed for battle.

And Lance, lying on his stomach, arms crossed beneath his cheek.  Shoulders bared.  Hair mussed.  Eyes closed.  Tan skin and white sheets bathed in soft sepia light. 

Keith shuddered, crushing his eyes closed to ward off _that_ particular image.  He didn’t have context. He didn’t _want_ context.

When the remnants of the vision faded, he peeked over at Lance, sprawled on his blanket at the corner of camp, arm draped over his eyes, headphones in.

So Lance had been distancing himself because of what happened with Allura...

For some reason Keith had expected Lance to bitch and moan when the princess inevitably rejected him.  Maybe throw a tantrum or jealous hissy fit.  He hadn’t anticipated this…taciturn, lethargic Lance.

The distance was a coping mechanism Keith could sympathize with…but for some reason, it felt like there was more to Lance’s retreat.

“You’re worried about him,” Krolia whispered, and Keith glanced at her, embarrassed to find that she’d followed his gaze to the Red Paladin.

“He’s not acting like himself,” Keith muttered.   He didn’t like the knowing look his mother was giving him.  “…. _What_?”

“You just remind me too much of myself sometimes.”

Keith felt his ears warm, and he wanted to ask her to elaborate, but she was already turning on her side to tackle the next cycle of restless sleep.

 

* * *

   

“Welcome to Portux. This planet is the melting pot of the universe.  Every race, every species, good and evil reside here,” Coran explained, gesturing to the rocky terrain of the campsite—and in the distance, a bustling, colorful city that reminded Lance a bit of Havana.

Hunk prodded at a tumbleweed of trash with his foot. “It smells like a garbage disposal.  Why is this place so popular?”

Allura wrinkled her nose in agreement.  “It’s a haven for outcasts and criminals.  There is no government, so many seek refuge here.  Others come here for a bit of…entertainment.  Even Zarkon left this place untouched because it is treasured by so many.”

“Entertainment?” Lance repeated curiously. “Like what?”

“It’s of a…promiscuous nature,” she said awkwardly, and a light blush tainted her cheeks.  “And I assume it’s only become more liberal over the years.”

“Lots of shady business,” Coran added. “A place to hire and recruit assassins and such.  Wide-scale gambling, black markets…”

“So it’s like the Vegas of the universe,” Lance said, a wicked grin splitting his cheeks open.

Shiro shot him a look.  “Don’t even think about it, Lance.”

“What?”

“No one is leaving camp tonight.  The metropolis is dangerous and full of enemies.  We can’t risk someone recognizing us. Not when we’re so close to getting home.”

Lance threw his hands up.  “Come on.  We can go in disguises! We’ve pulled that off before.”  He glanced at Allura for help. “We all deserve to have some fun, don’t we?  You were locked up in a pod for 10,000 years.  Shiro’s just come back from the dead. And Keith’s never even _known_ a good time.”

Keith scoffed.

But Shiro was obstinate.  “It’s not worth the risk, Lance.  Lie low for the night.  Krolia and Romelle can go to town in the morning and get food and supplies.  Then we only have a few days until we reach Earth.”

Lance curled his lip.  Lifted his brows.

“That’s not gonna work on me, Lance.”

“We’re seriously not even gonna check out the place?  What if we never get to see this planet again?”

“ _This is not up for_ —“

“Shiro’s right, Lance,” Allura said, placing her hand on Shiro’s elbow to calm him, passing the leader a gentle, soothing smile—something that struck Lance as strangely intimate.  Like it carried a conversation no one else could understand.  “It’s not safe.  Especially if Galran spies are here.  And you of all people should understand that we need to get back to Earth as soon as possible without any unnecessary detours.”

Lance glanced at the city once more, the ships coming and going, the lights flickering on as the sun set over the canyon.  “Fine. I’ll just…be in Red.”

He patted Kaltenecker’s head as he moved for the lion.  He didn’t miss the flash of pity in Allura’s eyes, the way she released Shiro’s arm guiltily.  Her concern just made him feel worse.  He wanted to prove to her that he was okay—that he wasn’t wallowing. 

He had to prove that to _himself_.

 

* * *

  

“Hunk, come on, man.”

Hunk groaned, drawing his hand over his face.  “No. You heard Shiro.  No one is leaving.”

“Shiro won’t even know!” Even as Lance said it, he knew that was unlikely. Shiro was like his own father—nothing escaped the guy, not when he had eyes sprouting from the back of his neck.  “You’re my wingman, Hunk. You’re my buddy. You have to come with me.”

Hunk shook his head, glancing back at the Yellow Lion.  “Look, Pidge and I are almost done with Shiro’s arm.  I’m staying up to make the final touches.”

“Hunk—“

“Sorry, Lance. But a prosthetic limb is more important than your late night escapades.”

Lance’s shoulders sagged.  For the first time in a while, he’d been excited to go out and explore the night life. He’d even had the energy to mingle — he had some killer new pickup lines to try.   

But it wasn’t like he could just mosey downtown by himself. That was just lame.  And kind of scary...not that he would ever admit that.

“Just go to bed. We’ll be out of here in the morning, and you’ll forget all about it.”

Lance watched Hunk retreat to his lion, pouting.

 

* * *

   

Keith stared. “ _What_?”

Lance raised his brow.  He was _serious_ , then.  “You. Me. Night on the town.”

“Lance, did you hear a single thing Shiro said?  We can’t risk getting caught.”

Lance peered around the side of the Red Lion, making sure no one was within earshot.  “We won’t get caught if you’re there. You can keep me out of trouble.”

“Unlikely.”

Lance shot him a withering look, but Keith still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that _Lance_ _McClain_ wanted Keith to accompany him.  “Come on, Keith.  Let’s just go for a few drinks, let loose for a while, and come back.  There’s no harm in that.”

Keith narrowed his eyes.  “Why are you asking _me?_ Did Hunk turn you down or something?"

“Well, _yeah._ But...I'm asking you because…” Lance’s confidence wavered. “Because you need this as much as I do.”

Keith bristled.  “What is _that_ supposed to mean?” 

“Keith.  You were stranded on a whale for two years during the prime of life.  You didn’t get to experience anything people your age get to experience.  No drugs. No sex." Lance's eyes widened.  " _Dude_.  You’ve got to be horny as fuck.” 

He wasn’t…wrong, exactly.  But it wasn’t like Keith had much experience in that department to begin with.  He was never into the party scene.  And he wasn’t extroverted like Lance—he didn’t need a crowd of people to boost his energy.  A crowd had the opposite effect.

 “Why do _you_ need this?” Keith asked the Red Paladin. “You haven’t gone out in a while.”

 Keith used to get annoyed by Lance’s flings and nightly undertakings.  He’d always thought paladins should be serious, focused.  Not hooking up with aliens on every planet and waking up with hickeys.  Keith had thought that maybe Lance had outgrown all that, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

 “I’m just...I'm trying to get over Allura, okay?” Lance muttered, looking away as if he were ashamed.  “And I’m…nervous about going home.  I want a distraction.  A distraction meaning hot girls and lots of alcohol.”

Keith studied him.  Lance had been opening up more lately—Keith’s personal inquiries were met with less resistance.  Lance was letting him see his insecurities without attaching snide remarks or insulting riders to the end of them.  The least Keith could do was indulge him, right?

 “Fine.”

 Lance’s gaze snapped back to Keith’s, incredulous—delighted.  “Really?”

“Yeah.  But it’s in and out, no lingering.  Then we get our asses back here before anyone finds out.”

 Lance smiled wide, unreservedly, and it made something in Keith’s chest catch fire.

 “ _Deal_.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: A night on the town with our two dorks falling in love


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH. I'm sorry this took so long. I was trying to fit everything into one chapter, but it just kept building up and up so I had to split this in two! This is all fluff, part 1 of Portux. Part 2 should be up in a few days and it contains WAY more angst/plot. 
> 
> Also, season 7 is coming August 10, (fuck me) and there's no way in hell I'm finishing this before then, so I hope you all keep reading even though I'll be pissing on canon. XD
> 
> Enjoy!

The boys waited for the rest of the team to retire for the night before creeping to the outskirts of camp.  As they moved, Lance lifted his finger to his lips to be quiet, and Keith rolled his eyes.  It wasn’t like the Blade hadn’t trained him in stealth or anything.

It wasn’t like he was _Lance_ , with his loud footfalls and heavy breathing.

“How are we getting to the city, exactly?” Keith whispered once they’d moved out of earshot. 

Lance winked at him.  “Check this out.”

He held out the Red Bayard—Keith’s old one—and a conspiratorial grin lit his face. 

Keith watched as the weapon grew into a handlebar, and then two, and then disappeared in a halo of red light.

When he opened his eyes, a dirt bike had taken the bayard’s place.*

A _motorcross bike_.

Inverted forks. Two-stroke engine.  Six speed transmission. A killer tail.

It was huge and intricate and…awesome.

“ _How_ did you do that?” Keith marveled.  He was pretty sure _Allura_ didn’t even know the bayards were capable of this.  Or maybe she did, and she chose to keep it a secret, lest Lance take advantage of it.

“Neat, huh?” Lance admired the bike, its red and black sheen.  He straddled the seat.  “Learned that trick a few days ago.  Apparently the bayard turns into whatever instrument the paladin needs most at the time.  But it’s _pretty_ advanced stuff.  Need a good imagination to pull it off, you know?”

Keith hated to admit he was impressed. 

Lance tilted his chin.  “Well, get on.”

“…what?”

“Did you bring the Black Bayard?”

“No. I haven’t used it since…I haven’t used it in a while.”

“Then unless you plan on pulling a scooter out of your ass, let’s go.”

Keith glared as he slid onto the leather seat behind Lance, trying to maintain as big of a space between them as possible.  He didn’t want to touch Lance if he could help it.  Touching Lance brought up snippets of a vision he wanted desperately to forget.

Feelings he wanted desperately to ignore. 

Lance revved the engine—vociferous, unsurprisingly—and he peeked back at Keith with a wicked grin.  Keith felt his own mouth pull up at the corners.  He hadn’t seen Lance this excited about anything in a while.

“Hold on,” Lance advised in a sing-song voice.

“To _what_ —”

They shot forward, and Keith’s arms surged forward to lock around Lance’s middle.

“Dammit, Lance.”

Lance howled joyously, and the bike sped over the dunes too fast, swaying too far to the side because Lance was an idiot who didn’t know how to _ride_ _a_ _fucking bike_.  The tires ground over brush and rock, and night creatures scattered before them, darting out of their reckless path.   Keith was confident this was how he was going to die. On the back of a Harley, clinging to Lance McClain, face buried in his the nape of his neck. 

The nape of his…

Keith jerked back, wishing he hadn’t caught a whiff of Lance’s citrus shampoo.   Now the smell would be forever tainted by _Lance._

He attempted to release his hold on Lance’s chest, but the guy was too radical, and Keith almost flew off the back and snapped his neck.  Exhaling through his nose, Keith dropped his hands to the belt loops on either side of Lance’s hips, hooking his fingers through the denim.

There.

Lance sat a little straighter, his shoulders tensing, and Keith worried maybe he’d gone overboard—that the belt loops were somehow worse than his hands splayed all over Lance’s abs.  But then Lance launched the bike over a particularly steep dune, laughing all the while, and Keith slumped in relief.

Oblivious.  Like always. 

As they drew closer to the city, it became clear to Keith that Lance didn’t know how, or more accurately— _when—_ to use the breaks.  (Apparently, he and Red were fated.)

The first building was looming closer, and Keith was 99% confident they were going to crash and die there.

Swearing, Keith leaned forward and grasped the brake lever.  His stomach was pressed tightly to Lance’s back, and Keith attempted to ignore the heat between their bodies.  The tires kicked up dust and desert sad, and they finally coasted to a stop, Lance protesting all the while.

Keith shoved off the bike, hating that he was flustered over something so stupid.

“Well.  That was fun,” Lance said.  His hair was tousled and wind-blown and it was an attractiveness that was not permitted under any circumstances.

Keith threw his gaze away—and any precarious thoughts along with it.  “You’re insane.”

In a flash of light, the vehicle converted into the Bayard again, and Lance shoved it back into his pocket.  

Keith started marching for the towering city, but Lance snatched his wrist before he could get anywhere. “We need our disguises.”

“Our _what_?”

Lance shrugged off his jacket.  Beneath it, he wore one of Shiro’s black, form-fitting shirts, and Keith was stunned to see that Lance actually filled it out.   Then Lance removed a hat from his jacket pocket—a black baseball cap.  He pulled it down low over his eyes.

Keith had always thought the caps looked ridiculous anywhere outside a baseball field.  But on Lance…it suited him.  Maybe when tacky styles clashed they cancelled each other out?

“Where did you get that?” Keith asked, eyeing the hat. 

“I bought it when we went to the mall that time.  From the Earth store,” Lance said absently, looking Keith over—assessing. He frowned and walked behind Keith with his jacket. 

“What are you doing?” Keith muttered warily.

Lance’s arms circled his waist from behind, and Keith flushed at the proximity.  He was about to judo flip the boy unconscious when he realized Lance was merely tying his green jacket around his hips.

_What...._

Then Lance was toying with Keith’s hair, and he blanched.  “What are you _doing_?” he repeated.

“I stole one of Allura’s hair ties,” Lance said simply. “Bear with me a sec.”

Keith felt Lance draw his hair back into a loose ponytail, fingers raking his scalp, his nape.  Keith wasn’t exactly sure what was happening.  He and Lance were not this… _close_.  Even Shiro didn’t risk touching Keith’s hair.

Lance spun him around.  He plucked a few strands out of the updo, letting them dangle back over Keith’s forehead and ears.

He hummed discontentedly, and he proceeded to roll up the sleeves of Keith’s gray crew neck. 

“There.”

Keith glared at his wardrobe and then at Lance.  “You really think that’s going to keep anyone from recognizing us?”  

“As long as we don’t run in there with guns blazing and full body armor, I’d say we’re okay.”  Lance grinned at him—admiring his work, no doubt. “You look like a samurai.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s a top tier compliment, Keith.”

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

Lance huffed through his smile.   “That’s the spirit.” 

 

* * *

  

They wandered into the depths of the city.  Crumbling buildings lined the dirty streets. Clothes lines hung off balconies and between alleyways. The windows were all open, and aliens cheered or argued or sang in every pane. 

To their right, someone kicked an Arielian out the window, and the maroon-skinned alien crashed into a food truck.   The onlookers cheered.

“Man, this place is _awesome_ ,” Lance marveled.

Keith, on the other hand, was beginning to think this was a very, very bad idea. 

They were in the backcountry of the universe.  There were no laws here.  Anything could happen, and he was here with _Lance._

Street hecklers pestered them, trying to get them to purchase space tattoos or participate in an event that sounded too much like an alien orgy. Mostly, though, they just sought the contents of their pockets.

Lance didn’t seem discouraged by this behavior.   If anything, he appeared to grow more and more invested in the place.

Above them, a group of Puigian women draped themselves over the balcony, blowing kisses to the crowd. Showing off their cleavage and bedazzled horns.   

Lance halted, grinning up at them and flashing his stupid finger guns. Keith released a puff of air between his teeth and dragged him away.

“Don’t even think about it.”

_“Why?”_

“It’s a brothel, Lance.”

Realization dawned on the brunette’s face. “Oh right. Well, maybe there are guys too? We could ask.”

“You completely missed my point.”

Lance was already moving on.  He was like a child that way, easily distracted....naïve, obnoxious, temperamental—

“Keith, _look_.”

Exasperated, Keith followed his gaze. 

Unlike the cityscape around them, the lavish space beyond was a stark juxtaposition.  A courtyard stretched before them, bright lights and lanterns hanging above cobblestone and marble fountains. An alien circus performed on the lawn beside the gazebo—Unilu jugglers and tentacled tight-rope walkers.  At the far end of the square, a casino rose above them like Buckingham Palace, throbbing with music and thick, bustling crowds.   

Keith had never been to Vegas, but he had a feeling Portux would put the Sin City to shame.

He and Lance exchanged looks.   

  

* * *

 

Lance held tight to Keith’s wrist as he dragged him through the crowd.

As they weaved through warm bodies, fingers brushed at Keith's arms or neck or on one occasion—his ass.   He almost cried in relief when they broke through the thick of it and he could breathe again. 

They’d made it to a black-light bar where the strange music was less intense and conversation more prevalent.  

Keith turned around only to find that Lance was missing.

His eyes widened, and he felt a spark of panic.  He’d expected Lance to go off on his own eventually, but for him to just—

“Here you go.”

Lance stood behind him, holding two drinks, and the tension in Keith's spine disappeared.

“How did you pay for that?” Keith murmured.  They didn’t have a cent on them.  In fact, the only money they had at all was a small allowance from Allura and any Voltron donations.  Neither of which were permitted to be spent on drugs nor gambling. 

“It was free.”

“ _Why_?”

Lance shrugged, and Keith took the drink from him gingerly.  He was startled to discover that the cup was made of a green desert plant, not glass.   He glanced at the others drinking out of the same succulent, a few biting into the organic material as if it were an ice cream cone.

Okay…

Keith inspected the drink warily.  “What’s in this?”

Lance took a meager sip. “No idea.  But it’s good.” 

Keith sniffed the contents.  _Fruity._   And definitely fermented.  They should moderate their inta—

Lance chugged it down in one go, wincing slightly.

Keith gaped at him.   “Lance, how are you still _alive_.” 

Lance bit into the shell of the cup like an apple, smirking. “Chill, Keith.  Check out of your fight or flight response for a minute.”

“If you’re going around drinking whatever a bartender throws at you, I better not.”

Lance rolled his eyes and gripped Keith’s shoulder.  “Hey, I’m taking _you_ out.  You’re not my chaperone.  Let loose a little bit.” He shook Keith’s shoulder to stress his point.

“Just go do whatever you do at these things," Keith said.  "I’ll wait here.”

Lance frowned at him, but he didn’t seem entirely surprised. “Okay.  But first I need to find someone to keep you company.  What’s your type?” He held up a finger before Keith could protest. “And we’ve established you’re into guys.  Be specific.”

Keith wondered if his ears were turning red from pure mortification.  Shiro told him they did that sometimes.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not _know_?” Lance shook his head, and Keith realized that for whatever reason, Lance wasn't going to let this go.  “You have to give me something to go off of, or we’ll be here all night.” When Keith said nothing, Lance threw his arms up. _“Fine._   What about Shiro? Do you think Shiro’s attractive?”

Keith felt his face pinch in disgust. “What? Gross.  He’s basically my brother.”

“Doesn’t make you blind.”

“I…” Keith shrugged helplessly. “Yeah. He’s…okay.”

Lance looked appalled. “What? Just okay? Shiro’s _hot_.”

“Sounds like he’s _your_ type, then.”

“Nah. Your _mom_ ’s more my type.”  Keith glared at him, entirely unamused, and Lance exhaled heavily, his grin fading. “Okay. So you like the lean, muscular guy.  Gives off the responsible vibe. Older.”

Keith frowned, and he resorted to sipping on the cactus juice to battle his unease.  This was not something he wanted to discuss with _Lance_ of all people. “Not necessarily.”  The flavor burned on his tongue, and liquid trickled down his throat, leaving a fire in its wake.

“ _Okay_. Then you’re into guys more like Hunk?  Strong and soft? With mad cooking skills and gorgeous eyes?  He's a catch. Hard to find.”

Why was Lance so adamant?  What was in it for him? 

“Hunk’s…great," Keith got out. "But…maybe something in between those two extremes.”  

“Ahhh.  So like Matt?”

Keith wanted to die.

“Matt’s…look, I’m telling you, I don’t have a type.  Just drop it, okay?”

Lance gave up on him, pouting.   He scanned the club, eyes roaming over the table games and dealers with a youthful curiosity.  

“Just go, Lance.  I’ll be fine,” Keith assured him, and Lance glanced at him, wilting in disappointment. A second later, his blue eyes widened, and he elbowed Keith, nodding at something behind him.

Keith turned, expecting Shiro to be standing there with his dad-face. Or maybe Lotor’s evil generals.  

But instead, it was two Galrans—twins, by the looks of it.  A girl wearing a skimpy black jumpsuit, and beside her, a man a few years older than Keith, dark hair falling about his face, over his pointed ears.  He was staring at Keith, but just as their gazes locked, he looked away.

Lance leaned in close. “That guy? Totally checking you out.”

Keith side-eyed him. “ _What_?”

“See? This is perfect.  He’s hot too.”

“Lance.”  Normally Keith was glad for Lance's lack of perception.  But right now... 

“And he’s Galra — so you know, _compatible.”_   Lance wiggled his eyebrows, and Keith glared.  “But he’s cute, yeah?”

Keith dropped his shoulders, defeated.  “He's...fine.”

Lance patted him on the back. “Alright. Good enough.  Hold my alien beer.”  He thrust the half-eaten cactus cup into Keith’s hands, and he marched toward the Galran siblings.

Keith gaped after him.  “ _Lance_.”

But it was too late.  He was already engaging with the pair, winking at the girl, gesturing to Keith.  Keith couldn’t hear him, but he could read something like “hermit” on Lance’s lips, and he scowled.  The young man turned to look at him, smiling slightly.  

Then Lance was throwing his arm around the girl, and they were slinking off to the other end of the bar, and the man was walking toward Keith.

_Dammit, Lance._

 

* * *

  

Lance watched on in agony.

Keith was the worst flirter Lance had ever laid eyes on.  What was he even doing, standing there with his arms crossed like an emo.  He wasn’t even _smiling_.

Keith kept glancing over at him despairingly, begging for a rescue. But Keith had to learn to fly on his own, even if that meant Lance forcefully kicking him out of the nest.

By the way things were going so far, though, Lance decided Keith didn’t have wings at all. 

The Galran girl probed Lance with a few questions, but he shushed her, captivated by the human catastrophe that was Keith.

He ignored her indignant huff as she stomped away. 

Lance hadn’t understated when he said her brother was hot.  The man was all sharp edges, smooth skin, and soft yellow eyes.  He wore a black and red tunic that showed off his lean muscle, and honestly? He and Keith would make one hell of a power couple.

And for some reason, Lance didn’t like that concept.   At _all._

And the longer the man continued to flirt with Keith, the more Lance hated the idea.

Which just…didn’t make any sense.  He’d brought the two of them together in the first place, hadn’t he? He’d wanted Keith to have fun tonight, right? 

So why did he suddenly feel so nauseous?

The Galran leaned in closer to hear Keith’s mumbled replies, and he tilted his head, brushing Keith’s fresh scar with his hand, a questioning look on his stupid purple face.  

Keith was pressing himself back against the bar, but then he raised his brow at the contents of the man's low whisper, leaning forward the way he did when faced with a challenge, the way he did when Lance pushed him too far.  He responded with something witty...and probably rude as hell.

Whatever it was, it took the Galran by surprise, and he stepped back, wide-eyed, before bellowing in hearty laughter. 

The man said something else, still chuckling, and then he excused himself to search for his sister.  

Lance face-palmed.  But...he couldn't deny that a part of him felt relieved. 

Keith joined him at the bar a moment later, pulling out a stool rigidly, like an angry old man. 

“Keith, what _was_ that?  What did you say to him?”

Keith glared at him as he sat down. “He said he'd never seen a Galran hybrid before.  I told him I'd never seen a walking ballsack."

Lance snorted, running his hand over his face. "You _didn't_."

"I did."

"Keith, all you had to do was smile and laugh.  That's it."  

"For your information, I still got a party address.”

Lance blinked.  “You…wait, you _did_?”

“Yeah.  He told me to come by later.”

Lance gaped at him for a moment, and then he smiled uneasily, hooking his foot around the bottom of the stool. "So?  You going?"

“What? _No._ Of course not."

“But—”

 _"Lance._ Stop _."_   Keith slammed his empty drink onto the bar top with more force than necessary, and the Unilu bartender whisked it away with one of his four arms and left two more in its place.  “I never planned on hooking up with anyone tonight.  I'm not _looking_ for someone.  It was just…nice to know that…that I’ve got options, I guess.”

Lance tilted his head at him, his brow creasing. “You thought you _didn't?”_

Keith looked at him with a sour expression.  

Lance stared at him, thrown off balance.   _Seriously_? 

One of the reasons Lance had hated Keith so much to begin with was the bastard’s mastery in every skill—and the fact that he _knew_ he was better than everyone else.  Lance had just assumed Keith thought he excelled at this too.

“You have like zero self-confidence when it comes to this kind of thing, don’t you?” Lance realized.

“You’re not helping, throwing me to the _wolves.”_

Lance chuckled at the dead-ass expression on Keith’s face.

“Sorry.  I didn’t think it would be that bad.”  He grinned, taking the second cactus cup. “Keith, I don’t think you realize it, but if you had done the whole Voltron campaign with the rest of us, girls and guys would be drooling over you in every galaxy.  You’d be buried in fan mail.  And I’d have one more thing to be jealous of.”

Keith blinked at him, his lips parted in muted wonder.  He looked so…stunned, and Lance didn’t know why.   He was Keith!  He was a hot-shot.  How did he not _know_ he was attractive?  Especially after his glow-up in the abyss. 

“.... _One more thing_?” Keith repeated quizzically. “What else are you jealous of?”

Lance quirked an incredulous eyebrow.

_Everything?  Wasn't it obvious?_

But Keith just stared at him blankly, and he sighed, choosing his next words carefully. “I don’t know.  You were always better at everything.  Piloting.  Fighting.  Leading.  It used to make me mad how you garnered all this attention that you didn’t even want.  I had to try so _hard_ to get anyone to notice me.”  He shrugged tiredly.  “But…a lot’s changed since then.  Things just…aren’t the same.”

“No. They aren’t,” Keith agreed with a thoughtful frown.  

Then he raised his cup, a silent toast, and Lance clinked his cup with his. 

 

* * *

 

They didn’t have any money, so they couldn’t gamble or partake in any of the special events.  Quite honestly, Lance was surprised they were even let into a place this nice for free, dressed as they were. 

Without much left to do, he and Keith had wandered through the casino toward the indoor concert—a clash of electric sounds and foreign instruments.  He’d plopped Keith down in a booth with a drink and left to dance and mingle for a while.

Lance didn’t know what was in those cactus cups, but he loved it.  Two drinks in and he was already drunk, but without the loss of coordination or slurred speech.  Without the fear of an impending vomiting session.  It was an easy, blissful state of senselessness.  Like any alcohol, though, the cactus juice had switched off his reservations and made everything a bit brighter, a bit rosier. 

And a bit more _devastating._

Lance had tried talking to a few girls, and even a few guys, dancing with each of them for a song or two.  But he just wasn’t feeling it.  They didn’t have the fierceness of a Paladin.  The grace of a princess.  Or skin like freshly tilled soil…and sea-foam hair…

He slumped back into the booth with Keith.

He was doomed.

He’d thought he was getting better, and he'd wanted to put that to the test tonight.  But it looked like he still held Allura on a pedestal.  She still plagued his thoughts.

After he'd left the team, how long would it take for him to forget her?

 _Could_ he?

“Lance, are you okay?”

He glanced at Keith miserably, debating if he should share his concerns or not.  But the alcohol had greased his tongue.  “Have you ever just…really, really liked someone, and you know they’re never gonna see you that way, but you just can’t seem to get over them completely?  And then…because they don’t reciprocate your feelings, and they might actually be in love with someone else, you start to resent them? Even though that’s not fair.  It’s not their fault...”

Keith stared at him for a long moment, eyes round and _full_.  He swallowed.  “Allura, right?”

Lance nodded, dropping his arms on the table and burying his face in them. 

"God, I'm pathetic."

He'd come here to have fun, forget his troubles.  He'd even tried to set Keith up with a hot date to distract himself, but that had been short lived and strangely unpleasant.  And now he was just bitching and moaning about a girl he could never have. 

What the hell, cactus juice?

“Actually,” Keith said softly, “I think I know exactly how you feel.”

Lance peeked up at him.  “You do?”

“It’s like no matter what you do, you can’t get them out of your head.  The…vision of the two of you together doesn’t go away.  And you try to move on, to look elsewhere, but you can't help but compare them to everyone you meet _._ " Keith sighed shakily.  "You could want anyone in the universe, but you had to pick  _them."_

“Yeah. _Exactly.”_   Lance frowned.  “They’re just…perfect.”

Keith stared into his cup sadly.  “No…the worst part is when you recognize that they’re _imperfect_.  But you love them anyway.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cactus Juice - it'll quench ya. 
> 
> Poor Keith....
> 
> * totally thought the Lions came with mini cargo ships but I must have read that in a fanfic. SO this is my BS way of resolving that plot hole lol. But honestly? The Bayards have so much more potential.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So...I watched the first episode of season 7 and the new trailer and I can already tell things are going to be drastically different from the contents of this fic...whether that's good or bad, idk. 
> 
> There are major spoilers concerning Shiro, and while this fic was originally going to contain a Shallura subplot...I feel very weird writing that now. So...I'm not sure how I'm going to fit the new information into the plot I already had in the works but hopefully I'll find a way...I know that's vague but some of you might live under a rock and have no idea what I'm talking about. Some minor things you'll just have to ignore for the sake of the story, but what else is new in fanfiction lmao.
> 
> There's nothing very spoilery in this chapter - can't say the same for future chapters though!
> 
> ANYWAY. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the support so far! This is the second half of the Portux storyline. I told ya'll this was a beast of a chapter. Also, the OC isn't totally random. She'll come into play later on.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

 

“I need to pee,” Lance decided.  

Keith scowled at him.  “Then go pee.”

Lance gaped. “I’m not going by _myself_. What if I get mugged?  Or kidnapped?”  Keith was unimpressed.  “At least stand guard outside the door.”

“Are you serious?”

“You think I’d be asking you for help if I didn’t _need_ it?”

Keith grimaced, but he still got up and followed Lance out of the booth.  Lance glanced back at him and grabbed his hand—too easily, as if touching Keith and holding his hand was second nature. 

He wasn’t sure Lance realized what he was doing.  Maybe he was too drunk to realize he was holding Keith’s hand in public.   The sensible side of Keith urged him to let go, maybe jerk his hand away, as if revolted.

The other side of him, the side that savored the warmth of Lance’s hand through his gloves, the constant in his life that was Lance…

That side won.

He said nothing.

They meandered through the dancers and slot machines and into the crowded corridors that framed the main floor.   All the flickering lights and patterned carpets were making Keith disorientated.

They argued about what the signs meant and which directions they were pointing, but Lance finally gave up and asked a cocktail waitress for directions to the bathroom.

She nodded at the stairs, and Lance yanked Keith down to the floor below.

It was quieter on this floor, and Keith could see and taste the smoke in the air from the concentration of cigars and pipes and whatever else these aliens were burning.   The crowd consisted mostly of older men and their trophy wives or husbands, and it gave off an old-school vibe, like what Vegas might have looked like in the sixties.   He suspected there were probably twice as many mob bosses though.

They finally spotted the line for the bathroom, and Keith looked down at his hand, fingers threaded through Lance’s.

When he chanced a look at Lance, he was also staring at their hands, but Keith couldn't read the expression. 

Lance let go instantly, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.  “I’ll…be right back.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and entered the line, shoulders stiff.  Uncomfortable.  

Keith looked away, pretending it didn't hurt.

He needed to keep his emotions in check tonight. 

What was he doing, confessing right to Lance’s face about his own muddled feelings?  He was just lucky Lance was too dense and too drunk to put two and two together.

Then again, were his feelings even _muddled_?

He’d said it, after all.

….the L-word...

Obviously, he loved the team.  He loved them like family.  He loved his mom.  He loved Shiro. 

And he loved Lance too…

But it wasn’t the same.

And he _knew_ it wasn’t the same, but he didn’t want to think about why.  He didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that Lance was still in love with Allura, and that he’d never seen Keith that way—never even considered it, especially since he didn’t know Keith was gay until a few days ago.  Apparently Lance had only ever been envious of Keith, which Keith still didn’t understand. 

He was an emotionally stunted half-Galran introvert with unreciprocated feelings!  

What was there to be jealous of?

 As he waited for Lance, his gaze wandered to the men in the club, drinking bubbling liquid and smoking out of strange pipes.  An alien all in black emerged from a long corridor, and he paused before the booths, scanning the room. 

He locked eyes with another male of the same species, nodding, and the gentleman stood, gesturing subtly for a few companions— _armed_ companions—to join him.   

It was a furtive transaction, hardly noticeable to anyone else, but Keith’s observational skills told him these men did not want to be followed.

And that only made him want to do exactly that.

Lance exited the bathroom, smiling at him.   “So? What’s next?”

“There’s something shady going on here,” Keith murmured.

“No duh.  This is like Costello central.  I’d be surprised if there wasn’t.”

Keith nodded, his eyes fixed on the golden curtain the men disappeared through.  “So why were they being so _suspicious_ if crime here is already rampant?”

Lance frowned. “You think it’s serious, don’t you?”

“I think we should check it out.”

But Lance was already grabbing his hand again, marching for the stairs before Keith could even protest. “Oh no you don’t.  I took you here to have fun, not for an investigation.”

Keith wrenched his arm back.  “Lance.  I’m not going to ignore this.  You can wait upstairs, or you can come with me.”

Lance stared at him, eyes shadowed by his dark cap. “What happened to _in and out_ and _no lingering_?  If they catch us snooping, we’ll be _lingering_ in the trunk of a mobster’s ship.”

 “Something’s wrong. I can feel it,” Keith insisted. He stepped backwards, watching Lance’s face tighten in irritation, and maybe even something like _concern_. “I’ll meet you back upstairs in ten minutes.”

“No, you won’t,” Lance growled, clenching his jaw. “I’m coming with you.”

 

* * *

 

 The hallway was long, the walls carpeted, making it all look too much like a tunnel in Wonderland…or _The_ _Shining_.  Halfway down it, Keith found himself leaning against the plush sides for support.  Dammit. He’d had too much of the cactus crap.  The stuff didn’t give you any physical symptoms until it was too late, until your brain started to forget how to _walk_ and just shut down completely.

“Keith, how drunk are you from a scale of one to ten?” Lance whispered over his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

“ _Nine_?!”

“No. I said I’m _fine_.”

Lance chuckled.  “Tell that to your feet. You’re stumbling around like a giraffe.”

That was an exaggeration.  “So are you.  And you’re smiling too much.”

“Yeah. Because I’m drunk, like _you_. Which is why we shouldn’t be busting a drug deal right now.”

“Then go upstairs like I told you to.”

“Not without your reckless ass.”

Keith rolled his eyes.

At the end of the hallway was a heavy metal door.  Despite the obvious key card scanner on the wall to their left, Lance pushed against the door. He sighed dramatically when it didn't open.  “Ah well, that’s too bad. Time to go.”

Keith glared at him and removed the luxite blade from his belt, crouching at the lock.

He placed his ear against the cool metal and moved the knife along the left side of the door.  He heard one click.  Then two.

The door opened.

Lance gaped at him. “How did you—?”

“Magnets,” Keith replied simply, and he stashed the blade back in its scabbard with a hidden smile.   

It always felt good when he could visibly impress Lance.  

They pushed through the door into a dark room.   There were dozens of aliens sitting about, smoking and drinking as before, but their gazes were fixed on a lit stage.  In the spotlight stood a reptilian humanoid in indigo robes, and at his feet knelt a young Balmeran in a collar and _handcuffs_. 

“Did I hear 10,000 GAC?” the reptilian host called.   “Remember—Balmerans are strong.  Suited for any labor.”

A member of the crowd raised his hand. “11,000.”

“13,500,” another pitched.

“I hear 13,500 GAC!”

Keith heard Lance swallow beside him.  “Uh…is this what I think it is?”

Keith nodded stiffly. 

He’d never seen alien trafficking with his own eyes before. He knew it was still commonplace across the universe, particularly within the imperialized galaxies, but to watch it unfold around him…to know it was going on here beneath a high-end nightclub…

“14,000 GAC! Going once. Going twice?” The auctioneer waited, scaly eyebrows high on his forehead. “Gone, to the gentleman at table one.”

On the screen above the stage, symbols changed rapidly to account for the purchase, like one of the slot machines upstairs.

The auctioneer jerked his head, and a large Galran marched onto the stage, dragging the Balmeran back behind the curtain.  The worst part was the lack of resistance on the Balmeran’s behalf.  The dim light in his eyes. 

He’d given up.

“Up next we have this lovely specimen,” the auctioneer said, and a girl no older than Lance was shoved onto the stage floor.  She had smooth, seawater skin, most of which was bared to ogling eyes.  Dark hair fell in a braid down her spine. Piercing black eyes glared out at the vile creatures before her.   “That’s right. An _Invenian_. Who has many years ahead of her yet.”

The room hummed with murmurs.

Keith was going to be sick. 

“21,000!”

“26,000!”

The numbers began climbing, the corners of the host’s wicked smile growing at every bid.

“Keith, we have to do something,” Lance said.  “We can’t let them get away with this.”

“I know.  Just let me think.”  Keith needed to find a smart way to stop this.  They couldn’t expose themselves and put the entire team in jeopardy.   They needed a plan.

Of course, Lance wasn’t patient enough for that. 

“100,000 GAC!” he cried loudly.

The entire room fell silent.  The auctioneer gaped at them.

And Keith? Keith stared at Lance like he’d burned down all of Portux.

Idiot. 

“What are you _doing_?” he choked.

The auctioneer cleared his throat.  “…100,000 going once, twice?”

“Lance, we don’t have any _money_ ,” Keith hissed.

Lance finally tore his eyes from the young alien girl to look at him. “Yeah, but _they_ don’t know that.”

Keith was going to implode.  “You’re wearing a baseball cap and sneakers.”

It didn't take a genius to realize they did not belong here.

“And _sold_! To the gentlemen in the back!”

Keith watched the Galran shuffle the girl off stage with a twist in his gut.  “They’re gonna kill us…”

Lance didn’t disagree with him.

Instead, the Red Paladin’s gaze flitted about the room, his brow furrowed beneath his hat.  Then his blue eyes widened, and he smirked.

“Keith. I have an idea.”

 

* * *

 

 They couldn’t take out the entire crowd—not while simultaneously freeing the prisoners.  Everyone here was armed.  And worst of all, they were all on their toes, hands resting on scabbards or holsters, as if they _expected_ someone to pull something.

But even if they did free the prisoners, how would he and Lance get them all out of here?  Out of the casino? And most importantly, off Portux?  There were at least twenty that they’d see so far, not including any that were auctioned off before they’d arrived.

Lance knocked on the metal door, and after checking to make sure no one was paying them any special attention, Keith slid it open. 

At the sight before him, he almost slammed it right back into Lance’s face.

Lance carried a bundle of golden cloth in his arms that Keith recognized as the curtain hanging in the hallway.  Behind him, he dragged two large sacks made of familiar tablecloths. “Lance, I thought you said you had an _idea_.”

“Sh.”  He pulled Keith behind one of the marble pillars and draped the curtain’s silk over his head and over his shoulders. 

“What the hell—”

“I placed a bid higher than anyone else, by a long shot.  To pull this off, you have to be extremely rich, right?  So you need to act like it.  And look like it.”

“This is a _curtain_.”

“You can’t tell.”

Keith made a face.  “And our money? How did you solve that problem?”

Lance held up the heavy sacks, as if that explained everything.  “Trash. Plus, I jacked a few pieces of silverware from the restaurant for the right noise.  That’s critical.”

Keith shook his head. “This is ridiculous.  We just need to figure out a way—”

“Gentlemen.” 

Keith froze.

Slowly, the two paladins turned to look at the auctioneer, flanked by two Galrans. “Please accompany us to complete our transaction.” 

The reptilian creature had a look in his eye that made Keith nervous.  It was a mix of suspicion, skepticism, and unparalleled _greed_.

“ _Gentlemen_?” Lance repeated, outraged.  He gestured toward Keith.  “ _This_ is the high lord of… _Cuba._ You will address him as Master Kogane.”

Keith stared at him in horror, and then at the host, whose pallor had lightened remarkably.

Shit.  Was Lance _concussed??_ He didn't actually think they could pull this off, did he?

“Apologies…Master Kogane," the host said.

Keith had to force his mouth from dropping open.

_No fucking way._

After a pregnant pause, Lance shot him a look.  _Say something._

“...After you,” Keith got out, and the auctioneer nodded, turning on his heels.

Lance winked at him as they followed the trio backstage.

Oh, God.  They were in way,  _way_ over their heads.

They entered a dimly lit room, and the young Invenian stood with her cuffed hands in front of her.  Her eyes rose warily to Keith’s as he entered, then shied away, before glancing once more in his direction and sticking on Lance.

Keith thought he saw a spark of recognition there.

“As you can see, she is in perfect condition, as promised. Untouched and unsullied,” the host said, eyeing the trash bags.  “Your 100,000 GAC, I presume?”

“In full,” Lance said curtly, setting the bags down on the table between them.  They clinked against the wood, and Keith had to give him credit—they both sounded and looked like they contained real currency. 

“We’ll make certain of that,” the host said, reaching for the bags.

Lance slapped his scaly hand away, and Keith almost passed out when he realized he hadn't just imagined it.

What the hell was Lance  _thinking_?

The Galran guards stood erect, and the Invenian started, her black eyes wide.

“I beg your pardon?” Lance said, aghast. No hint of remorse.

The auctioneer blinked and glanced at Keith nervously. “I’d like to check—“

“I heard you the first time!” Lance snapped. “In Cuba, it is _slander_ to accuse His Majesty of thievery.”

“I didn’t—”

“You take Master Kogane for a thief?  For a liar?”

Keith watched on with wide eyes.  He couldn’t decide if Lance’s performance was comical or _genius_.  

“I assure you, I’m just following protocol…Sire…”

“You have insulted His Majesty and our _people_. You should be purged from his—“

“Lance,” Keith cut in, an admonishing tone. “I’m sure the gentleman didn’t intend to make such horrific insinuations.  Surely he didn’t expect one of my standing to go back on an agreement, the very thing our people hold sacred above all else.”  He dragged his gaze back to the host, and he tilted his head, trying to pull off as menacing as a look as he could. “Did you?”

The host must have felt the threat, and he must have either believed Keith an honorable man or decided the two bags of GAC were close enough to the payment due.

“No, of course not.” He gestured for the guards to make the trade, and they shoved the young alien girl into Lance. Lance handled her just as gruffly, but she didn’t appear afraid, and she didn’t struggle.  If anything, she seemed relieved.

 “Then all is forgiven,” Keith said with a tight, unforgiving smile.

“It was good doing business with you,” the auctioneer said agreeably, bowing his head.  “May we cross paths again.”

“Unlikely,” Lance hissed. “I should have you killed for your insolence!”

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith said, and his reproach wasn’t even an act at this point. Lance was overdoing it, like everything else.

Properly scolded, Lance fell into step behind him, and they walked out of the room with the Invenian in tow.

It wasn’t until they cleared the metal door that they broke into a sprint, and Keith thrust the apparel off, Lance laughing incredulously behind him.   They halted at the end of the hallway when they realized the girl hadn’t followed.

“Come on!” Lance whisper-shouted, and she blinked a few times before running after them.

They darted out of the lobby to the stairs.

“I knew it would work!” Lance exclaimed.

“It didn’t,” Keith muttered.

Below them, he could already hear the shouts, the thunderous yelling and cursing.  Followed, most likely, by a hoard of angry mobsters and their weapons.

Keith was grateful for the thick crowd this time around.

He grabbed Lance’s hand, and Lance held onto the Invenian as they weaved through the bodies and the pulsing music.   Keith heard the discord from behind them, the startled grunts and outcries of aliens being pushed out of the way by mobsters and human traffickers that had just been ripped off a hundred grand.

Trash. 

They'd actually duped traffickers with trash and silverware.  Honestly? After that, the criminals' murderous revenge was perfectly warranted.

Keith led them toward the back exits of the casino, realizing that the entryway offered too little cover.  They needed to get lost in the city, even if that was the last thing he wanted to do.

They ran to the back lot of the casino and stumbled across a chaotic pool party.  A green, bubbling pool.   Wet pavement.  Floating chunks of half-eaten cactus cups.  Half-clothed aliens and the smell of something _chemical_.  

Halfway though the courtyard, Lance’s grip slipped from Keith’s, and Keith glanced behind him only to have the young Invenian thrust into his arms. 

Over her shoulder he saw Lance punch a security guard in the jaw and throw him into the pool.  People screamed and laughed, oblivious.

“Go! Go! Go!” Lance yelled, and Keith found himself running behind the Invenian, following her through the dense swarm of people.

She made it to the back door first, shoving through it.  As soon as Lance darted across the threshold, Keith slammed it into the face of their pursuers.  

They sprinted through a parking lot of ships and vehicles.  The first laser blast shot past Keith’s elbow, and he heard another round of bullets and energy pulses repel off wings and tires.  

Luckily, it didn't take long for the three of them to find refuge in the the dark maze of the city.  The Invenian led the way through streets and alleyways expertly, and Keith had a feeling she'd wandered these parts before. 

When they lost security, they stopped in a small alley to catch their breath and regain their bearings.  Keith and Lance were both panting raggedly, but the Invenian hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“I think we lost them,” Lance said, smoothing his hair back from his face. 

Keith was about to remind him why they needed to lose them in the _first_ place when several figures appeared at the end of the alley.  

But it wasn’t what Keith was expecting, and he couldn’t decide if it was better or worse.

“There you are.”

It was Evak—the Galran that had flirted with Keith at the bar.  Along with his sister and two more Galra.  With guns.

“Oh look Keith, it’s your boyfriend,” Lance said dryly, crouching to remove the girl’s handcuffs.

“Evak.  What are you doing here?” Keith said.  

The Galran smiled wickedly, and he was suddenly the least handsome specimen Keith had ever seen.  “Strange. For two humans to be this far away from the Milky Way, isn’t it?”

 _Shit_.

“I only know of one human troupe that has ventured this far.” He leered at them. “They call themselves the Paladins of Voltron.”

Keith’s blade dropped into his palm, and he heard Lance’s bayard transform into the assault rifle a second later.   They should have known even a lawless planet sheltered Galra still loyal to the empire.

“Pity I have to report you.  Such a pretty face,” Evak sighed, unsheathing a sword.

“I take it the party’s over?” Keith growled, squaring up for the fight.

“On the contrary.”

His sister charged first, and Keith met her in the middle of the alley, his blade cutting and slicing against hers.   Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lance drag the Invenian behind a dumpster to protect them from the onslaught of open fire while he finished freeing her from the confines.

Keith blocked the twin's next strike, then easily kicked her feet out from under her and knocked her flat on her back.  He hated to kick a man when he's down, but he also didn't want her to get up any time soon. 

_To hell with it._

He knocked her out, and Evak snarled as he took her place. 

He was far better competition.  _Trained._  

But Keith found himself outmatched with a bloodstream full of alcohol.   It took all he had to keep pace with Evak—he had no way of helping Lance against the other two, or Evak’s sister, who was bound to return to the fight in a few heartbeats.

Keith finally landed a good kick on his opponent and spared a glance at the Red Paladin.

Lance had managed to blast through the Invenian’s handcuffs, and he pushed her toward the other end of the alley.  “Go on! Get somewhere safe.”

She hesitated, looking between them uncertainly, and Keith nodded. “Go!”

She swallowed and ran.

Lance fired at the Galran soldiers as she fled, hitting one in the throat.   Lance nodded at Keith.

 _I’ll cover you_ , the look said.  _Keep Evak preoccupied._

Keith nodded, twisting his blade in his hands. 

He came at Evak harder this time, striking flesh twice, rolling and punching.  When he felt the heat of an energy blast graze his ear, he shot Lance a scathing look.  “Your aim is shit!”

“I’m _drunk!”_ Lance protested. “What do you expect?”

But a moment later, the second soldier dropped to the ground.

Evak’s sister stirred, and Lance emerged from the dumpster, standing beside Keith.  “Fancy meeting you again,” he cooed, and the girl bared her teeth as she rose to her feet.

Keith didn't need to check—he could _feel_ Lance’s smile. The guy always loved a good fight.

At Lance's side, the bayard transformed again.  But this time, it turned into a broadsword—double-edged and heavy and something Keith had _never_ seen before.

Lance didn’t seem surprised by the blade's appearance, which meant he’d done this before.  He’d _wielded_ it before.  And, as Keith watched him engage with the Galran twin, he found Lance wasn’t half bad.

It distracted him just long enough for Evak to kick him in the chest.  Keith lost his breath for a moment, allowing Evak the time to deliver one more blow to his head.

The same exact blow he'd dealt to Evak's sister moments before.  It sent him to the ground.

He saw spots, and he swore, irritated that he'd been taken off guard.

“Keith!”

Lance appeared in front of him, blocking him from Evak’s downswing.  Their swords clashed, and Keith watched Lance’s heels slide backward on the pavement.

They engaged in a fierce battle, swords clanging loudly.  Lance used his surroundings to his advantage. He bounced off the alley walls for leverage, and he threw the crates and clotheslines into Evak's line of sight. 

He was…fighting _smart_.

Evak’s sister shot toward Keith before he could get to his feet again.  His eyes widened in alarm, and he flinched as her sword came flying down for his head.

But he didn’t feel the stinging bite of her blade, the cold metallic burn.

Instead, she crumpled to the ground. 

Behind her, the Invenian girl stood with a piece of scrap metal in her fists, chest heaving with adrenaline.

Keith stared at her for a beat, and then he smiled warmly.  

She dropped the metal.  “Voltron," she said, struggling to form the next word.  " _Friend_.”

He nodded, relieved.  “That’s right.”

“Saved me,” she added, eyes upturning. “Many thanks.”

Her softness sent a pang of guilt through Keith’s body.  He wished they would have found a way to save everyone in that basement.  Maybe someday they’d end alien trafficking across the universe.

But for now, they might just have to save one prisoner at a time.

“What’s your name?” he asked her.

“Lox.”

“I’m glad you’re okay, Lox.”

She bowed her head. “Master Kogane.”

Keith opened his mouth to correct her, but then he remembered just who Lance was fighting, and he shot to his feet, swaying a little as he did so. 

Lance panted heavily as he fought Evak, dark hair plastered to his forehead.  Keith marveled at the fact he was still on two feet considering how much alcohol he'd consumed tonight.

But just as Keith found the strength to run and help him, just as he steadied his knife, Evak drove his blade into Lance’s stomach and out the other side.

Keith froze mid-stride. 

Pinned in place.

Ice in his veins. In his throat.  

He stared at the bloody tip of the sword sprouting from Lance's spine, and he forgot how to breathe. 

It felt like he'd been stabbed instead.  Right through every important organ.  Right through the _heart._

Lance and Evak stood together, heads bent on one another’s shoulders.  It almost looked like an embrace. 

And then they both fell to their knees, and Keith stared at the red broadsword impaling Evak’s own abdomen.  The blood he spat out of his mouth.

They’d wounded  _each other._

Fatally.

“Lance.”

Keith’s feet were moving before his mind could even consciously command it, and he was at Lance’s side just as the paladin began to teeter.  Keith caught him and eased him to the ground.

Lance was clutching his stomach.  Blood gushed through the black material.

“I’m…okay,” Lance tried. He bit his lip. “You know, if  _okay_ was like, _really not okay._ ”

Shit.

“Get help?” Lox asked softly.

“No. We need to get back to our friends,” Keith said, cradling Lance as he shuddered from pain. “Do you have somewhere you can go? Do you want to come with us?”

Lox shook her head, her dark braid swaying behind her.  “Family on Portux. I’ll be okay.”

"I hope you find them," Keith managed, looking up at her gratefully. "Take care of yourself, Lox."

She bowed her head. “I’m indebted to you, Master Kogane.”

She turned on her heels and disappeared into the dark.

Lance sighed into Keith’s shoulder. _“Man._ I didn’t even get a thank you kiss.”

Keith didn’t understand how Lance could joke right now. 

His gaze flitted to Evak, but the Galran was staring at the sky through lifeless eyes. 

Dead.

In a flicker.

It sent a cold lump into Keith’s throat, and when he looked back at Lance, the boy’s eyes were glued to the dead soldier as well.  Blown wide with fear. 

“God...this is _not_ how I wanted to go.  Shiro is gonna resurrect me just to _kill_ me,"  Lance rambled shakily. “It’s pathetic.  I wanted to die in battle, you know? Blow up a Galra ship.  Go out with a bang.  But I...I guess I can’t even _die_ like a hero.”

“Lance, stop it. You’re gonna be fine,” Keith told him, but his own voice wavered as he spoke.  He bit his lip, looking around them at the other bodies littering the alley.  This was bad.  All the casino security had to do was follow the trail of blood and they’d find them.

They needed to hurry.

Keith leaned over to Evak’s body and removed Lance’s bayard from his flesh.

Lance shuddered again, and he grabbed hold of Keith’s shirt, fisting it tightly, as if he thought Keith were abandoning him or something.

"I'm here," Keith said thickly, which seemed to placate Lance a bit.  Keith turned his focus to the Red Lion.  “I need your help, Red.  Help me get Lance back to camp.  _Please."_

At first nothing happened, and Keith feared he really was no longer linked to the lion.  But then the bayard bathed them in a burst of bright light, and Keith had to drop the device as the weight quadrupled in his hand.

Before them sat a small speeder not unlike the one in Red’s chest. *

“Show off,” Lance muttered, and Keith squeezed him tightly—to console Lance or himself, he wasn't really sure.

“I need to get you into this thing, but I’m gonna need your help so I don’t hurt you,” Keith said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.  That was entirely too much blood on Lance’s hand.

“Mmkay,” Lance said, and he hooked his arm around Keith’s neck.

Slowly, they pushed to their feet, and Lance crashed his eyes shut, body shaking with tremors.

“Sorry,” Keith whispered, carrying most of Lance’s weight as he pushed on toward the small vehicle.   He lowered Lance into the backseat as gently as he could.  Then after some debate, he removed Lance’s jacket around his own waste and placed it over the wound.  “Keep pressure on it.”

Lance didn’t protest to Keith ruining his favorite apparel, which only made Keith worry more.

He could hear shouting just an alley away.  Coming closer.  

Shit.

Keith hopped into the speeder’s front seat and hit the gas. The ship shot into the air and out of the alley. 

In his rear-view mirror, Keith could see people darting out of the way as a Galran ship joined the airspace and flew after them.

“They’re on our tail,” he said.  When he didn’t get a response from Lance, he glanced back at him.  The paladin's eyes were shut, and his face was contorted in pain.   “Lance?”

“Hmmm.”

“I need you to stay awake.”

“M'kay…”

Lance was way too docile.  Keith needed to get him medical attention. _Now_.

But that meant getting back to Allura and the others.  

And first he had to lose these Galran ships. 

Keith released a tight breath. “Hold on, Lance.  We’re taking a detour.”

He jerked the speeder to the left, and they took off into the desert in the opposite bearing of their camp.  The Galra ship followed, and trailing behind it, a smaller black transport vehicle so lavish that it could only belong to the casino.

Lox must have been worth every dime they didn't spend.

Keith spotted the canyon up ahead, and without warning, he dove into its depths.  

It was a risky move in a speeder this small, but Keith trusted his piloting skills enough to get them both out of here alive.

And _only_ them.

True to his word, the casino ship didn’t last twenty seconds in the narrow confines of the canyon walls.  At the first sharp turn, it hit its own wings and went down into the deep rocky terrain. Bursting into fire.

The Galran ship was harder to throw off.

Keith didn’t know if it was another spy or the pilot merely seeking revenge on his fallen comrades.  He supposed it didn't really matter either way. 

He had to lose him.

Keith decided he had no choice but to pull a _Lance_.

He jerked the lever forward, and the speeder spiraled for the bottom of the valley in a nosedive.  He heard Lance swear behind him as his forehead hit the back of Keith’s seat.

“Almost there.  Almost there…”

Keith knew the speeder wouldn’t have the same throttle as the lions.  He had to play this safe.

Or, _nearly_ safe.

He drew up at the last minute, skidding slightly along the bottom of the valley, savoring the sweet sound of the Galran ship exploding behind them. 

He maneuvered out of the canyon and shot for camp, his foot flat on the pedal.

“Lance? How you doing?”  Keith couldn’t go any faster in this thing.  But in the distance, he could see the Lions standing like stone formations atop the desert sand. 

“Not good…I think...I think this is it, Keith.”

Keith shook his head adamantly.  “No, it's not.  You’re gonna be fine. Just…just stay with me. “

He heard Lance sigh.  “Keith.  I need you to do something for me.” 

He shifted slightly, and Keith wondered how much blood he'd already lost.  

“When you get to Earth…tell my mom…tell her I’m sorry?” Lance said softly, too softly.  “For putting her through all this.  Tell her…I wanted to come _home_.  I didn’t want to…abandon them…okay?”

“Lance.”

“Tell her, Keith.”

Keith’s hands tightened around the stick.   “Okay.”

“Promise.”

“I promise,” Keith said, and he felt the panic rise in his chest again.  Lance was saying _goodbye._ He really thought he was going to die.

“And…if Hunk starts to feel guilty …because I know he will…be there for him, okay? Same with Shiro.” He coughed, and it sounded wet and painful and Keith wanted nothing more than to take the pain away.  “Everyone likes to shoulder the burden on this team.  You can’t….you can’t let that happen. Don’t leave them again, Keith…”

“I won’t.” Keith anticipated Lance’s next words, so he beat him to it. “I promise.”

He wanted to turn around to see how bad it was, to give Lance the attention he deserved in this moment.  But he didn’t have the courage.  He just needed to get to Allura. She could help him—if she could bring Shiro back from the dead, she could heal something as simple as a stab wound.

“Most importantly,” Lance said, his voice hardly a whisper, “don’t let anyone find the Playboy under Red’s seat, okay?  Keith, you take that secret to the _grave_.”

Beneath the comical facade, Keith could hear Lance’s labored breathing, and even a soft sniffle. 

“Lance, it’ll be okay. Just hold on a little longer.”

Lance coughed again, and Keith winced. 

“Thanks, Keith…for coming with me.  You're kinda...fun.”

Keith was breaking inside.  “Stay awake, Lance. We’re almost back.”

“Mmm.”

He had to keep him conscious.  At all costs.

“Do you want to hear a story, Lance?” Keith tried, checking the distance to the Lions on the speeder's radar.  Only a few miles left.  “It’s one I’ve never told anyone before.  About the day I got kicked out of the Garrison.”

Lance inhaled sharply.  “You put…three guys…in the med bay.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, smiling a little. “You know why?”

“Mm-mm.”                                        

“It was a few months after we lost contact with Shiro and Holt.  They told me my only family was dead.  I was a wreck.  Barely attended class.  Couldn’t sleep at night.  Stopped listening to my officers and professors…I was  _angry_.”

“Sounds…like you.”

Keith nodded even though Lance couldn’t see him.  “I was falling apart.  And then these three guys…they started to pester me.   You remember James.”

Lance grunted.

Keith smiled a little.  He could see the lions distinctly now. They were getting close.

They were going to make it.

“They’d always singled me out.  Called me faggot, twink, whatever.  It hadn’t ever bothered me.  I knew they acted that way because they were jealous, insecure.  I ignored them, and when they realized their taunts wouldn’t get a rise out of me anymore, they backed off.  But then the thing with Shiro happened, and they could tell how messed up I was over it.  And they started to talk about Shiro instead.  And it got to me.”

“Ass…holes…”

Keith was relieved to hear strength in Lance’s voice.

“Yeah.  So…when they started making insinuations about Shiro and me…I snapped.  I beat them bloody, broke their jaws so they wouldn’t be able to speak for a few days.  It was the last straw for the Garrison. They booted me.  But the moment I saw my tormentors getting wheeled out on stretchers, I didn’t even care.  I _still_ don’t regret it.”

He’d never belonged in the Garrison anyway.

Keith exhaled as the familiar campfire bloomed to life before him.  His foot eased on the gas, and the speeder slowed to a stop in the middle of camp. 

“We made it, Lance.”

The others were already up, standing around in their pajamas and arguing at one another for whatever reason.  They glared as Keith jumped out of the speeder.

“Keith. Where the _hell—“_

“Shiro. Not now!” Keith rasped.  The team took in his bloody chest and arms then, gaping at him in horror. “Allura, get over here!”

“Whose blood is that?  What happened?” Hunk asked frantically.

"Keith, are you okay?" Pidge cried. 

“It's _Lance._   He's wounded.  He needs help.”

Allura moved forward, but she halted in her tracks a few feet from the speeder, her face white as a sheet.  As was Shiro’s. 

Confused at their lack of urgency, Keith followed their gazes to the paladin in the backseat—eyes closed, hand curled into the flesh of his abdomen.   Head stooped.  

Keith’s gut plummeted.  _“Lance?”_

He was at Lance's side in an instant.  He shook his arm to rouse him.

Lance didn’t move.

"Lance," he said again, sternly this time.  Desperately. 

Slowly, Keith's hand rose to Lance's neck, dread pooling in his chest.

He waited for the pulse. For the little stubborn kick.

But it didn't come.    

Lance wasn't _breathing._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *thanks again personA for informing me that there are, in fact, speeders and I'm not out of my mind


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments. I appreciate it. <3 
> 
> It's going to take a little longer for the next update, but I'm going to try and pump it out before the 10th. This story still has another five or six chapters though, regardless of what we're fed in season 7.

Shiro helped Keith drag Lance’s body out of the speeder onto the ground, and Allura dropped to her knees beside him, her hands glowing as she worked

Keith stared.

This wasn’t happening. 

He’d just been talking to Lance five seconds ago.  Lance had been making _jokes_.

He couldn’t be…

“Is it working?” he asked.   

Allura’s eyes filled with tears, and her hands shook.  “I’m…I’m not sure…”

Keith jolted.  “What do you mean, you’re not _sure_?”

“Keith,” Shiro warned.

But Keith was losing it.  He’d driven all the way out here to the middle of nowhere to _save_ Lance.  If Allura couldn’t do anything, he would have had as much luck trying to find a doctor in town.

If Lance was as good as dead, he should have stayed with him back in the city, holding him while he faded.  He wouldn’t have stuffed him into a speeder and talked over his _goodbyes_. 

Keith dug his nails into his palms.  Lance had known he was going to die—it wasn’t dramatics, it wasn’t a drunken delirium.  He’d felt it coming.

And instead of freaking out, he’d listened calmly to Keith’s goddamn story.

Keith felt like his knees were about to buckle any second, and he could hear the sirens blaring from the distance.  Sirens in a lawless country—that could only mean bad things.    

“Allura, you have to bring him back.  You have to save him.”

She glared up at him through the tears. “I’m trying, Keith.”

“Try harder.”

Shiro shoved him backwards with a murderous glint in his eyes.  And only then did Keith realize just how upset Shiro was.  How angry.

He’d told them not to go out, and they’d done it anyway.

This was _Keith’s_ fault.

Hunk must have come to the same conclusion.  The paladin turned on him, and it was the only time Keith had ever seen Hunk truly angry.  Soft brown eyes now hard and  _furious_.

“You…why did you go with him tonight?” Hunk said, eyes glistening in the glow of the campfire. “Shiro told us to stay. He told us it was dangerous!”

“Hunk,” Shiro reproached.

“Lance never would have gone alone,” Hunk pressed. “ _You_ let this happen!”

It felt like Keith had been shot, like the velocity of the bullet had wrenched his sternum back and away, like he was falling and the world was slipping out beneath him.

“This is not the time,” Shiro said. “Lance’s life is at stake.”

 “Because of _Keith_!”

“Hunk, you don’t mean that,” Pidge said.  She looked smaller than ever, curled into her herself and her oversized green pajamas.

Keith knew Hunk was just torn up, angry at himself and taking it out on Keith.  Lance had told him this would happen.  Hunk was _breaking_.  Come morning, he would probably feel terrible—they all would.

For now, let him lash out. Let him grieve and yell and cuss if it made him feel better.

God knows Keith deserved it.

Keith glanced back at Lance’s unmoving chest, his pale cheeks.  His disheveled hat hair. 

He wasn’t breathing. How long could that go on before his brain was damaged beyond repair?  How long until he couldn’t come back at all?

Keith had been through this enough with Shiro. He couldn’t do this again with Lance.

He couldn’t lose another person he cared about.

Allura released a choked sob, fingers digging into Lance’s bloody shirt.  “I healed the wound, but he’s…he’s…not….”

 _No_.

_No, no, no._

“I…I brought h-him back before,” she said helplessly. “But last time, he’d only begun to drift away…this time we don’t know how long he hasn’t been breathing…I can’t _help_ him…”

Keith’s gaze snapped to hers again.  What? _Before_?

When had this happened _before_?

The magic light from Allura’s palms died, and they all stared at Lance, _waiting_ for some kind of movement, the dip of his stomach, a twitch of his fingers, _anything_. 

Lance was a talkative guy.  A restive guy. He never stopped fidgeting—he was never supposed to be this _still_.  This _silent_.

It was all wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Allura said miserably. “I’m afraid it’s too late. He’s… _gone_.”

Tears gathered in the edges of Keith's eyes. This wasn’t happening.  This was _not_ happening.

It couldn’t — Keith had seen the future.  A future with _Lance_.  He didn’t understand.  He didn’t accept this.

And he _wouldn’t_.

Keith collapsed at Lance’s side, locking his hands together over Lance’s chest and putting all his weight into the compressions. 

“Keith,” Shiro said gently, pityingly, but Keith hardly heard him.   

28…29…30

Keith tilted Lance’s chin up and blew once into his mouth, eyes watching Lance’s body rise.  He breathed into him again, begging for Lance’s chest to move on its own this time.

It didn’t.

Keith kept at the compressions, counting, pushing hard enough to bruise Lance’s ribs. 

20…21…

The tears were trickling down over his cheeks, down his chin and onto Lance’s body.

He was getting tired—the compressions were getting too shallow. “Shiro,” he said, his voice hoarse and pleading. 

Shiro knelt beside him to take over, and Keith blew air into Lance’s lungs again at the proper count. 

After another minute, Shiro sat back, giving Keith a devastated look.   Keith checked Lance’s vitals, listening for a sound, waiting for the warmth of Lance’s breath against his cheek.

Still nothing.

Sick. Keith was going to be sick.   This was _his_ fault.

“Keith, he’s _gone_ ,” Shiro said gently, and Keith glowered at him only to pause at the expression on his face.  The eldest paladin was distraught.   _Guilty_.

Keith didn’t know why _he_ felt guilty—only one person was deserving of blame here.

Mechanically, Keith resumed pumping Lance’s chest, hands drowned in blood.

“We can’t give up,” Keith said tightly, the tears blurring his vision.  He heard Hunk swear behind him, and Allura began sobbing into her hands.    They thought he’d lost it.  They’d thought he was pummeling Lance’s corpse.

But Keith knew better than anyone that Lance was too stubborn to die from a stab wound.

His lip trembled as he plugged Lance’s nose and exhaled once more into his mouth, pleading with the paladin to come back to him.

This time Lance’s chest quaked beneath his palm—a stutter—and Keith’s head shot up just as Lance gasped loudly.

It was the most beautiful sound Keith had ever heard.

Dark blue eyes flashed open, and Keith fell back on his hands, chest heaving. He watched Lance’s torso rise and fall, and he thought he might burst into tears.

Lance blinked a few times, coughing, catching his breath, coming back to the world.  He winced up at the team, sitting up on his elbows weakly.  “What’s…going on?”  His eyes widened then, and he looked down at the blood.  He groaned and rolled his eyes.  “Oh _maaan_. I died again. Didn’t I?”

Keith huffed incredulously.

Lance’s brain was functioning fine, at least.

“Lance,” Allura whispered, astonished.

For a second no one moved, no one breathed.

And then the team dove for Lance, embracing him and kissing the crown of his head and crying and cursing into his shoulders. 

Except Keith.  He sat frozen, staring at Lance and his miraculous, _delayed_ , recovery.

“Too tight,” Lance muttered, but the team didn’t dare loosen their grip on him.

“How many lives do you _have_?” Pidge cried.

“Not enough, at this rate,” Lance responded with a soft and tired smile.

Hunk rested his head against Lance’s.  “I thought we’d lost you, buddy.  _Never_ do that again.”

Lance looked stupefied— _surprised_ —at the tear streaks on everyone’s faces, as if he didn’t think they’d be in shambles because of him.  As if he thought he wasn’t important enough to them or something.  Which…seemed so strange to Keith.  He’d always figured Lance assumed he was loved by everyone, that he was everyone’s favorite…  

“You’re an idiot,” Shiro muttered, mussing Lance’s hair, “but I’m not going to yell at you right now.”

Lance’s shoulders quaked with tender laughter. “Later, then?”

“Definitely.”

Lance’s eyes rose to rest on Keith. He offered a small, watery smile, and Keith stared back at him, the tears drying on his cheeks.

They held each other’s gazes for a long moment, too many thoughts passing between.  Too many emotions.

The sirens were louder now.

Reluctantly, the group released Lance, eyes drawn to the desert city.

“Who’s after you?” Shiro asked.

“Galra,” Keith answered. “And some angry people we robbed.”

Shiro gave him a dark look.  “Did they follow you here?”

“I managed to throw them off our tail.  But that doesn’t mean there won’t be reinforcements.”

Shiro pressed his lips together in discontent.  “Then we need to get off Portux as soon as possible.  Lance, can you fly?”

Lance tried to get to his feet, but his legs gave out.  Hunk caught him, and Lance deflated against him, rubbing at his sternum. “No. I’m sorry.  I don’t think I’m back online yet.”

Hunk glanced at Pidge, communicating silently the way they did, and she nodded. “Shiro, we just finished your arm.  It’s ready, if you are.”

Shiro looked down, calculating the variables.  “How fast can you get that connected?”

Hunk didn’t take his eyes off of Lance.  “It won’t be perfect, but we can get the main motor functions hooked up in fifteen minutes. It’ll be enough to pilot Black out of here.”

“Okay, do it,” Shiro said.  “Keith, you’re piloting Red.  Take Lance in with you, the lion might be able to help with his recovery.”

Reluctantly, Hunk moved for Keith, refusing him eye contact as he dropped Lance into his arms. 

“Hunk…” Keith pleaded quietly, but the boy was already walking away.

“Everyone else, pack your things. We’re taking off.”

Keith watched the others wipe their eyes and blink away the lingering tears.  Their gazes swept over Lance once more before they parted to complete their respective duties.

After retrieving Lance’s bayard, Keith helped him into Red and walked him past Kaltenecker to the cockpit.

Keith didn’t breathe a word the entire time.  He _couldn’t_.

He was still reeling from the events over the past five minutes.

Lance had been _dead_.   Gone. 

Apparently for the second time.

Then a moment later, Lance came back to them, alive and annoyingly chipper, as if his death hadn’t just torn the team to pieces, as if the shrapnel hadn’t lodged itself inside Keith’s gut and split him open.

He helped Lance sit back against the side of the cockpit.  Lance was too pale, and the bloody shirt and arms painted a gruesome picture.  He didn’t really _look_ alive.

It was jarring.

Keith made to stand up, but Lance caught his wrist.  His blue eyes were half-lidded and teary.  “When we get back to Earth, we should pay those assholes a visit.”

Keith stared at him for a moment, frowning as he tried to decipher Lance’s comment.  And then he remembered the last thing he’d told Lance before he’d blacked out, and he released a choked laugh.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  We can show up to the Garrison as Voltron…and ask for James Griffin in Optimum Prime voice…and he’ll _shit_ his pants…”

Keith bit his lip to keep the sob in. “Sounds good, Lance.”

Lance smiled at him warmly, gratefully.   “Now get us out of here, space cadet.”

 

* * *

  

 Lance sat next to Keith on the rock, eyes on the dusty ground of the moon.

“You disobeyed direct orders,” Shiro repeated.  “And you let your guard down by drinking some random tonic.”

“Everyone was drinking it,” Lance added weakly, and Keith elbowed him.

“Was everyone sneaking into a private room to investigate alien trafficking without contacting the rest of the team first?”

Lance elbowed Keith back.

_Your fault._

“You both acted foolish last night.  And it almost cost Lance his life.”

“Yeah, we got that part,” Lance muttered, gesturing to their clothes, still very much caked with blood. 

“I don’t think you do,” Shiro said.  “Lance, I’m not surprised, just disappointed.  But Keith, I expected better from you.  If you ever plan to lead this team someday, you need to—”

“Shiro,” Keith cut in crossly, “I regret last night more than anyone.  I know better than anyone what the consequences were.  _I_ was the one who didn’t get Lance here in time.  _I_ have to deal with that.  So can you just lay _off_?”

Silence.

The team stared at Keith, his taut shoulders, his dark eyes fixed on Shiro’s.  Swearing under his breath, Keith shot to his feet and stalked away.

Lance gazed after him.   Looked like some things hadn’t changed after all—Keith was still as explosive as ever.  “I’ll go talk to him.”

Shiro exhaled softly. “Lance.”  Lance waited, hating how much he’d disappointed Shiro and the rest of the team. “I’m sorry if I’m coming off too harsh. You just…you really scared us.”

Lance’s shoulders fell. “I know.  I’m sorry.  It won’t happen again.”

Soon he’d stop troubling them altogether.

 

* * *

 

 “Keith?”

Mullet was skipping rocks across a silver lake—angrily, as he conducted most endeavors. 

The water looked like mercury, and Lance kind of wanted to touch it.  But Coran had warned him about the stuff and told him it would most probably burn his face off.

So he restrained himself.

Keith sighed and glanced back at him.  “What, Lance?”

Lance frowned at the tone of voice, but he stepped closer anyway. “Are you…okay?”

Keith huffed incredulously. “Seriously?” He motioned to Lance. “You just came back from the dead, and you’re asking me if _I’m_ okay?”

Lance looked to the left and right awkwardly. “...Yes?”

Keith dropped the rock in his hand, turning to face him fully.  “I’m fine.  I’m just…angry at myself.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Lance shook his head.  _Predictable_.  “The only one at fault here is me.  I’m the one who dragged you out in the first place.  I’m the one who introduced you to Evak.  I’m the one who made the bid.  And I’m the one who got stabbed.”

“Stabbed because you took on Evak by yourself,” Keith argued.  “I should have cut him down before that happened.  Nothing bad would have happened in the first place if I hadn’t agreed to go with you.”

Lance winced. He’d thought they’d grown closer last night with their teamwork and loose tongues.  He’d thought after the things each of them had shared, they’d have moved on from what they used to be.

That maybe finally, they’d become better friends.  Real friends.

Lance hadn’t known he wanted that with Keith until a few months ago.  He hadn’t realized how _badly_ he’d wanted it until yesterday.

Twenty months ago, all they ever did was fight.

Lance knew he was an instigator, always muttering something petty out of spite or jealousy.  Keith would always bite back with a better insult, which just enraged Lance further.  Then, inevitably, Lance would raise his voice and they’d both be shouting.

Over time, that irritation had bled away to mutual dislike, but also mutual respect. 

And when Shiro had disappeared, and Lance saw Keith's vulnerability for the first time, cracking for the first time under the strain of leadership…his perception of Keith changed drastically.

Keith wasn’t perfect.  He had his own demons, and his own flaws. 

And Lance had wanted to get to know _that_ guy better.  He’d wanted to know his secrets, his fears, his hopes.

Last night, he’d seen a sliver of the real Keith.  A crack in the glass.

And he wanted to see more.

“So…did you really mean what you said to Shiro?” Lance found himself asking.  “That you regret last night?” 

Keith stared at him. “How could I not regret it? You _died_ , Lance.”

“And you brought me _back_.”

Lance had thanked Allura at breakfast, but she’d stopped him mid-sentence to clarify what had happened.  Allura had mended his wound, but _Keith_ had gotten his heart to beat again.

Keith never gave up on him. 

Not in that alley.  Not in the speeder when Lance had lost hope. 

Not even after Lance stopped breathing. 

Lance wouldn’t _be_ here without Keith. 

Keith shook his head, crushing his eyes closed, and the shadows beneath them told Lance he hadn’t slept much at all last night.  Lance wasn’t the best at reading Keith, but he could tell now that losing Lance had traumatized him. 

The fact that he was so beat up about this showed that Keith really did care about him, and maybe the way he’d been acting of late had less to do with his leadership duties and more to do with him just actively trying to be a friend to Lance.   After all, he’d gone out of his way to comfort Lance twice now.  He’d shared his sexuality, along with several other insecurities previously barred from Lance’s trust.  He’d gone out with Lance when no one else would. 

You don’t do all that for someone you hate, even if they _are_ your teammate.

Lance stepped forward and grabbed Keith’s hand, placing it against his own chest.  Pressing it flush against his beating heart. “Feel that?  Yeah, that’s me, Keith. I’m not _dead_.  I’m breathing and kicking just fine.”

Keith locked eyes with him, and Lance wasn’t sure he’d ever seen eyes that big and bright and _scared_.   It pulled at Lance’s heart to see him so broken up over this.

Keith shoved him away. “You _could_ be.  Because of me.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Now we’re just talking in circles.  What matters is that I’m fine now.  And hello?  _You_ got me back here in time for Allura to seal the wound.  _You_ saved my life, Keith.”

Once, he would have denied it. 

Saved?  By Keith?  His _rival_?

But Lance had grown to accept the fact that he  _always_ needed saving.  He was _never_ the hero.   Not for a lack of trying, of course.

He’d tried—he’d tried to save Keith from Evak.  He’d tried to save Lox.  But in the end, he’d become a liability.  A weight for Keith to carry—literally.  Like always.

In fact, without Keith, Lance would have died stupidly in the middle of an alleyway, and the Galra would have found Voltron and ambushed his friends.  All because he wanted a distraction.

It seemed as if he was always putting everyone through distress for no reason other than selfish (and stupid) desire.  If anything, last night had cleared up any lingering doubts he’d had about leaving.

Voltron would be better off without him.

Keith looked away, unconvinced.  He crouched to grab another flat rock from the shore and turned it over in his hand.

“You might regret it, but I don’t,” Lance admitted. “Yeah, we were stupid.  But we saved a girl from becoming a sex slave.  And we— _I_ had fun.  A lot of fun, surprisingly.”

And it was true.  He’d had fun shooting up Galra and playing the trusted guard of a Cuban high lord.  He’d actually enjoyed spending time with Keith, making fun of his flirting failures, watching the smile widen throughout the night the more he drank.

Keith skipped the rock silently, and it glided over the silvery liquid and disappeared into its depths, steaming.

“It’s just…whenever I make decisions, something always goes wrong. Someone always gets hurt,” Keith confessed.  “Shiro’s right.  This isn’t what a leader does.  A leader doesn’t get drunk and endanger his team.”

“ _Shiro_ doesn’t do that, but you’re not the same person, Keith,” Lance said, glad that Keith had once again confided in him.  “Besides.  I think a good leader has to make mistakes every now and then.  How else is he supposed to know what _not_ to do?” 

Keith finally looked at him then, unsure and a little hopeful.  His hair was still pulled back into that messy ponytail, and Lance hated to admit that Keith rocked the disheveled look. 

“Come on, Samurai.  Let’s get this blood off.  We look like the only two survivors of Scream 14.”

Keith looked down at his shirt, his hands, the blood beneath his fingernails.  Then he glanced at Lance—or more accurately—the soiled jacket around his waist.   “Sorry about your jacket,” he said awkwardly.

Lance grinned, walking back toward camp. “It was getting old anyway.”  Plus, he could always buy a new one—only a few days until he was back on Earth.

“You can have mine, if you want.”

Lance paused in his tracks. “What?”

“My old red one,” Keith elaborated. “It doesn’t fit me anymore.”

Lance opened his mouth and then closed it.   Keith was giving him his jacket?  His… _iconic_ jacket that he used to wear every day?

Keith’s eyes widened like he just realized what he’d sacrificed, and he shook his head, pink splashing his cheeks. “Forget it.”

Whoa. 

Was Keith _blushing_?

Was that even a thing he was _capable_ of?  Getting red from embarrassment and not anger?  It was definitely something Lance didn’t know he needed in his life until today.

Lance snapped out of his trance. “Hey, wait. I’m not gonna turn down a free jacket.  That thing’s got a thermal liner, and space is _cold_. I want it…if you don’t.”

“Okay, then. It’s yours.”

They walked back to camp in silence, and Lance wondered how he could get away with wearing Keith’s jacket without everyone on the team teasing him about it for the rest of his life.

 

* * *

 

Hunk was hogging Lance.

Which, yeah, technically Hunk was Lance’s best friend, not Keith.

But Keith was still unsteady after yesterday.  He needed to be next to Lance, if just to hear him speak, to watch his chest rise and fall.  He needed to convince his brain that this was real and not some blissful, cruel dream.

He needed to realize Lance hadn’t died like his father and Thace and Regris and Ulaz, or disappeared on him like Krolia and Shiro.

Keith had lost too many people in his life.

Losing Lance for even a moment had nearly taken him over the edge.

But Hunk was hogging Lance, probably for many of the same reasons, and Hunk was _ignoring_ Keith—in fact, Keith was pretty sure Hunk hated him now. 

So Keith sat by himself and _stewed_. 

“Careful,” Krolia said, sitting down beside him. “You stare any harder and you might turn him to ash.”

Keith glared at her, but honestly, he was only 90 percent sure she was joking.  He wasn’t entirely educated about the features Galra half-breeds possessed, and nothing could surprise him at this point.

“What’s wrong?” she pressed, and Keith hated that after two years, she already knew him so well.  “Did you two get in a fight again?”

“No.” It was the opposite of that, really.  “I guess I’m just…worried about him.  He’s reckless, and I feel like lately he’s gotten even worse.  I mean, he only got hurt because he was protecting me.  He knew he couldn’t take Evak, but he fought him anyway.”

Krolia smiled as she bit into the space pudding.

“ _What_?”

“Sounds like your father.”

Keith made a face.

“Your father was always trying to be my knight in shining armor.  Even though he knew I could take care of myself.  He just wanted to be my hero.  He wanted to take away the darkness in my life, even if that meant bearing it himself.”

Keith liked to watch the way her face transformed when she talked about his dad.  It always warmed his heart to see the love in her eyes, in her voice.  To know that someone out there knew his father as well as he had.

So it took him a moment to realize what she’d said and put it in context.

“Lance didn’t do that because he wanted to… _impress_ me,” Keith sputtered. “He did it because he’s an _idiot_ who overestimates his own capabilities.”

“So was your father.  But it was impossible not to love him.”

Keith stabbed at the space goo, pretending he hadn’t heard her.   He didn’t know how she’d discovered his feelings toward Lance—he’d never breathed a word about it to her, or to anyone for that matter.

Sure, Lance had come up over their time in the abyss.  He’d told her about their stupid rivalry that had sprung out of nowhere.   He’d told her Lance was a constant thorn in his side, albeit a decent shot. 

And thankfully, she'd been asleep when he'd had his weird, romantically-coded Lance vision.

But somehow, as soon as they reconvened with the team and defeated Lotor, she’d had them all figured out. 

It infuriated him to no end—especially because he always felt her eyes on him, watching curiously to see how he’d react or what he’d say to Lance.

He had to walk on eggshells around both of them.  And don’t even get him started on _Shiro._

Pidge stood up suddenly, staring at the communication device in her hand.

“Pidge?” Allura prompted, concerned. 

“It’s Matt.  The Coalition got a distress call from a Drajion space station.  They’re on the other side of the Andromeda Galaxy, but we’re the closest respondents by far.  Matt asked if we could look into it.”

She looked up at Shiro, asking the silent question.

Lance clapped his hands together. “ _Finally._ I’ve been itching for a space fight.”

Keith rolled his eyes.  Not even 24 hours after he’d been stabbed, killed, and resurrected, Lance was ready for the next potentially life-threatening adventure.  Keith wasn’t sure if he loved him or hated him for that.

“Not so fast, Lance,” Shiro said.  “We have to think about this.”

Allura stood up as well, confused. “What’s there to think about?”

“We don’t want the universe to know we’re without the Teludav.  We can’t let the Galra know we’re at any disadvantage.” He glanced at his new prosthetic and then Lance. “We need to get home as soon as possible, and _leave_ as soon as possible. We can’t stop to thank every ally, let alone fight for new ones.  It’s too risky right now.”

“We can’t pick fights we can’t run from if need be,” Romelle agreed.

“It’s not just a fight, it’s diplomacy,” Allura argued. “Just because we’re on a mission doesn’t mean Voltron’s larger purpose can be put on hold.  We have to investigate.”

Lance nodded, crossing his arms, and Hunk and Pidge exchanged nervous glances. 

“Keith. What do you think?” Shiro asked.

Keith wet his lips.  “I think there’s a lot at risk.  We’re not just responsible for ourselves, but for Coran and Romelle and Krolia and—”

“Kaltenecker,” Lance supplied.

“Right. I agree with Shiro.  We need to put enough space between us and the Galra. If they start to chase us down, we can’t go back to Earth.”  He’d learned the risk of _investigating_ back on Portux.

Allura pursed her lips. “But—“

“On the other hand,” Keith continued, “there’s no point to Voltron if we don’t fight when it counts.  We can’t ignore this call. Who knows how long it will be until we can come to their aid again? It could be too late.”

“So then what do we do?” Pidge asked.   

Shiro looked to Keith, tilting his head at him as if to say, _give this a shot_ , and Keith swallowed.  “We can’t take all of Voltron,” he decided. “Just a few lions.  That way, if we’re separated, Coran and Allura can still get back to Earth and recreate the Castle, and everyone else will still have a ride home.” 

Coran pulled at his mustache. “But what if you are captured?  Dividing Voltron is always dangerous.”

Keith stood, dumping the contents of his plate into the fire.  “If the Galra get their hands on two lions, it’s better than all of Voltron.  Worst case scenario, you go home, recreate the Caste of Lions, and come rescue us when you have wormhole tech again.”

Shiro studied Keith for a long moment, then Allura, who appeared to be satisfied with the solution.   At last, he nodded.  “Fine.  Keith and I will go inspect.  We’ll call if we need backup.”

“What about me?” Lance said with a pout. 

Shiro frowned.  “Lance, you’re still recovering.  You’re not going anywhere.”

“I second that,” Hunk added.

“I’m not just gonna let you guys go in there alone,” Lance protested.  He glanced at Keith. “Besides. If I go with Mullet, he can’t sacrifice himself while I’m in the cockpit.”

“You’re one to talk,” Keith shot back.

Shiro shook his head.  “Lance, it’s not a good idea.”   

But Lance wasn’t budging.  “Pidge, Hunk, Coran, and Allura are all critical to getting the ship built.  I’m not.  And I can’t pilot my lion right now, so I’m not doing anything here but taking up space.  Just…let me be your eyes.”

He held up his bayard as if to punctuate his sentence.

Shiro glanced at Keith. “Will he be a distraction to you?”

“Um. I’m right _here_ ,” Lance cried.

Keith was secretly thrilled to have Lance with him—if only to keep an eye on him.  He wasn’t quite ready to be separated, not if Lance went around _dying_ every time an opportunity presented itself. “It’s fine.  Besides.  Red isn’t too thrilled with me.  I might need Lance there to coax him.”

It wasn’t entirely true—Keith hadn’t been met with any resistance from Red when he’d taken to piloting the lion.  But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t run into trouble down the road, especially when the lion was being shuffled between two paladins.  And it was enough to convince Shiro.

"Okay then. Let’s head out.”

  

* * *

 

 “Lance, I swear if you don’t stop with the singing I’ll stuff you down in the cargo hold.”

Lance’s Spanish melody tapered off.  He sat at Keith’s heels, leaning back against the pilot seat, legs sprawled out in front of him.  “What do you normally do when you fly?  Sit here in silence?”

“Unlike some people, I like to _think_ about the scenario I’m in.”

Lance rolled his eyes.  Keith couldn’t always be so serious, so mission-driven.  Did it really take his weight in alcohol to get him thinking of anything else?

“I have a question,” Lance said.

“Of course you do.”

“Who’s this unrequited crush of yours?”

Keith’s head swiveled down at him, his gaze sharp and uneasy.  “ _What_?”

Lance wore a teasing smile.  “You said you knew how I felt back on Portux.  About Allura.”

“Are you seriously bringing that up right now?”

“Yes.”  Lance had reflected on their conversation from that night and realized he’d completely forgotten about Keith’s confession.   “ _So_?  Is it Shiro?”

Keith huffed. “No.  I _told_ you, we’re like brothers. Quit making it weird.”

Lance raised his palms. “Then who?”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?  He’s head over heels for someone else.”

Ugh.  That was the worst.  Watching the person you love pine for another.

“Did this guy…did he flat out reject you?” Lance asked, wondering if Keith had gone through the same shit that he had.

“Not exactly.”

“So if he wasn’t in love with the other guy, do you think he’d return your feelings?”

Keith smirked. “I think he’s too dense to even realize I have them in the first place.”

Lance was intrigued.  Keith had some unrequited love out there in space? Or back home on earth?  How come he’d never talked about it before? 

Then again, it wasn’t like they did this, the two of them—gush over boys together.  That wasn’t really their dynamic.  And after the fiasco with Evak, Keith probably never wanted Lance’s help with relationships again.

Still, it baffled Lance.   When had Keith found the time to fall for someone outside the team? He was always so focused when he was with Voltron, and before that, he’d been obsessed with piloting. 

Had he met some cool spy in the Blade or something?

Did his mom set him up? 

Lance frowned at the idea of Keith running off with some Galra stud while Lance died alone. The more rational part of him deeply sympathized with Keith’s dilemma.

“It sucks not to be someone’s first choice, doesn’t it?” he said quietly.

Keith looked down at him like he wanted to say something, but Shiro’s voice cut in over the speaker, and whatever it was died on Keith’s tongue.

They approached the Drajion planet, a big ball of green flora that reminded Lance of Cuba’s rainforest.   A large space station circled the planet, and around it, three Galra ships had anchored themselves to its docking bay.

“I’m calling in,” Shiro announced from the Black Lion.

A moment later a signal rang through Red’s speakers. 

Someone picked up immediately. “This is Praija, pilot of Station 407.”

“Praija, this is Shiro of Voltron. We picked up your distress signal. We’re here to help you.”

There was a pause on the other end, and a chorus of outcries and heavy breaths of relief. 

Lance smirked.  He wanted to savor every moment of this operation as he could.  It might very well be his last space rescue.

“Paladins of Voltron, we cannot thank you enough.  We were beginning to lose hope.”

“What’s your situation?”

“The space station is our military base.  It houses all of our classified information.  And most importantly, it contains the locations and access codes to every one of our Drajion missiles, the artillery our people are most famous for.”

“What kind of missiles?” Lance probed.

“The kind that can destroy planets with the push of a button," Praijia said gravely.  "If the Galra secure access to these weapons, not only will they have taken Drajion, but they will have gained immeasurable power and an incredible advantage.”

“Why do you have this weaponry to begin with?” Keith asked, and Lance could hear the suspicion in his voice.

“We began the missile development once the Galra Empire defeated the Papyon Galaxy, fearing that it wouldn’t take long before the Galra came for Drajion too.  We warned them of our power and flexed our strength by firing upon a foreign star.   It had its intended effect, for the Galra left us well alone.  For a thousand years, this has been our only defense against them—a strength fabricated via rumors and radio frequency, for they have never ventured here.  But now, they have expanded as far as the Andromeda Galaxy, and they have discovered the truth of our vulnerability.  They know all they need is this station to overthrow our world.”

“What are they doing right now?” Shiro asked. “They’re not attacking, are they?”

“They’re trying to open the hangar door.  They can’t kill us all because they know only we can access the codes.  And they can’t destroy the ship because all information will be lost.”

Keith's brow creased.  “Are there any escape pods?”

“There are three escape pods, all without fire power or engines.  But we will _not_ surrender to the enemy. We will not doom our world.”

“You won’t have to surrender,” Shiro assured them. “We’ll get you out of there.”

“Hurry.  They’re breaking through our barriers as we speak.”

Shiro shut off the com link for a moment.  “Well? Keith, Lance? Any ideas?”

“The ships are too close to the station,” Lance observed. “They’re anchored—the Galra are outside trying to cut open the door.   If we shoot the Galra ship, we will take the station out with it.”

“They did it on purpose,” Shiro agreed. “They know we can’t shoot them like this without endangering the Drajions on the station.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “So we shoot the _station_.”

“ _What_?” Shiro echoed.

“If we shoot it down, the Galra never find the codes.  They lose.  For now, at least.”

“And what about all the people on that _station_ , Keith?”

But Lance had caught on.  “They use the escape pods.”

Keith nodded at him.

“The escape pods don’t have any _fuel,”_ Shiro reminded them. “Praija and the others will eject themselves into outer space, into orbit. And they’ll become flying targets for the Galra, who will have no difficulty shooting them down or capturing them to torture for information.”

“That’s where you come in, Shiro. You grab the Drajion pods on their way out, right before the blast.  Get them to the ground safely.  Lance and I will battle the remaining Galra.”

“This is too radical—“

“We’re running out of time,” Lance said. “I’m with Keith on this one, Shiro.”

Keith locked eyes with him, dipping his chin appreciatively.

Shiro sighed.  “Okay.  I’ll tell the Drajion to board the escape pods.  We move on your signal.”

 

* * *

 

“Get ready, Shiro.”

Keith moved Red into position, his thumbs hovering over the laser ignition, narrowing his eyes as he focused on the target.

Then Keith felt a hand over his, and his gaze snapped to Lance, hovering near his shoulder.

Lance was staring at the Galra ships, and he pressed down against Keith’s hand—against the joystick.  Red’s large head dipped just slightly.

Lance glanced at Keith, and he smiled timidly, removing his hand. “Sorry.  It was just…a little off.”  He rested his elbow against the back of the seat. “Take it away.”

Keith dragged his eyes from Lance to the station.  “Here goes nothing.”

He pressed down, and Red released an energy blast from his mouth, blowing right through the point at which the Galra had anchored.  The escape pods were ejected the moment the beam hit the engine.  The station exploded, sending the Galra ships apart, and one of them spiraling for the surface. 

Shiro swept in to collect the pods, the Black Lion’s open mouth scooping the Drajions up like a game of Hungry Hungry Hippo.

Red shot forward, and Lance flew backwards, skidding across the floor of the cockpit, screaming.

“Sorry!” Keith yelled distantly, gaze rooted on the ships that had turned on them.

Shiro had disappeared into the Drajion atmosphere, and luckily, no Galra ships had followed him to the ground—at least none that were still intact.

Keith attacked, shooting his laser cannon as he wove through space expertly. 

“Get him, get him! Gah. Keith, you _missed_ him!”

“Lance, you’re backseat driving.”

“Look out!”

Red took a hit to the side, and Keith felt the lion’s irritation flare through the controls.  “Sorry, Red.”

Lance got to his feet again and staggered to the chair, gripping onto it tightly. “I think it’s time for the rail gun.”

For once, Keith agreed wholeheartedly, and Red appeared more than eager to oblige them.  With the rail gun hot and ready, the Galra ships didn’t stand a chance.  They weren’t prepared for the onslaught that Keith delivered. 

In mere minutes, they’d obliterated the enemy, ship remains floating through the dark space around them.  The space station thoroughly destroyed.

Lance leaned over Keith’s shoulder, holding out his hand, and Keith high-fived him, grinning.

There was nothing quite like it…being a fighter pilot.  Taking out bad guys.   But Keith had never done it with Lance before, not like that.

“Like I’ve always said,” Lance said, winking at Keith, “we make a good team.”

Keith stared at him, gaping at the revelation and the knowing smile that spread across Lance’s face.

He _remembered_.  

For the last year, Lance had pretended like that night had never happened.  But now, to admit to it so casually…

Whatever Lance and Keith had been before—rivals, copilots—Portux had changed that. 

They’d become something stronger.

Something _better_.

Keith smiled.

 

* * *

 

 Unsurprisingly, Keith failed to convince Lance to stay put in the lion.  Lance had turned his bayard into a crutch to mock Keith, and he limped his way down the ramp, holding tightly to his bruised ribs.

Shiro was already meeting with the Drajion, accepting their thanks and praise.  They were gentle looking creatures that reminded Keith a bit of salamanders.  Smooth, shiny skin, large eyes, and forked tongues.

Much to Keith’s surprise, Lance didn’t run straight for the girls this time.  He shook hands with the members of the space station and the civilians awaiting them.  He even crouched down to talk to the kids.

While Lance was clearly enjoying all the attention, there was a sadness on his face that puzzled Keith.  A bittersweet look that didn’t belong in a joyous setting like this. 

Keith watched Lance stand and smile out over the crowd while Shiro made his customary Voltron speech.  He watched Lance close his eyes and breathe in deeply.

And he watched the smile fade.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was totally going to have Keith bring Lance back by turning the bayard into a defibrillator. BUT fun fact - contrary to popular belief, the defibrillator can't start a heart, it can only stop it and set it into the correct rhythm again. If there's no pulse, your best bet is CPR! 
> 
> The more you know, right?
> 
> https://doctorgrasshopper.wordpress.com/2010/01/23/if-you-shock-a-flatline-i-swear-i-will-come-to-your-home-and-beat-you-with-a-wet-chicken/


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support! Everyone's response to the last chapter was amazing, and I appreciate the feedback so much. 
> 
> This is a short chapter, but I'm waiting for more info on Lance's family and the whole garrison situation before taking us down to earth. (You guys are gonna kill me for this slow burn, lmao). 
> 
> I can't wait to see what the development will be for season 7 klance. I'm so hyped!! XD
> 
> Enjoy!

It was their last night of traveling.  Tomorrow they would make the final stretch of their journey home.

Keith couldn’t lie. He was ecstatic to sleep in a real bed again.  Not that he minded camping out on random moons or catching a nap in one of Red’s pull-out cots. 

But…he’d been sleeping on soil for the last two years. He was ready for a mattress. 

When he and the others had returned to the team, Lance had immediately divulged their victory on Drajion.  He’d exaggerated, as usual.  But it wasn’t on his own behalf this time. He’d gushed over Shiro’s rescue, and then he’d propped up Keith’s performance, his leadership, even his piloting.   

The rest of the team appeared equally surprised by his behavior.

And Hunk…Hunk had scowled the entire time.

Keith needed to talk to him.  He’d made a promise to Lance in that speeder. And even though Lance hadn’t died, Keith still promised to be there for Hunk in the aftermath. 

And he hadn’t been.

So after dinner, when Allura pulled Lance aside for another healing session, Keith had wandered to Hunk’s tent, taking a deep, nervous breath.

“Hunk?”  

Silence.

Keith scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.  “Hunk, please. We really need to talk.”

When there was no response, Keith bit his lip and turned around.  He'd burned a bridge he'd never meant to.  He'd lost someone dear to him.  _Again._

Just as Keith began to walk away, he heard the sound of a zipper.  Behind him, the tent flap had been opened—a grudging invitation.

Keith entered the tent, swallowing as Hunk eyed him dubiously. Keith sat in the corner.

Hunk had always been so warm and easygoing.  Even when he was stressed or irritated, he usually didn’t carry any bite.  When he did get upset, it was usually short-lived.

But tonight he was angry.

“Uh, look, Hunk,” Keith began quickly, “I know I messed up.  I shouldn’t have gone with Lance, and I shouldn’t have gotten us involved in something so dangerous.”

“No. You shouldn’t have.”

Keith’s eyes darted away from those deep, disappointed eyes.  “I’m sorry. I know how much Lance means to you—”

“Keith,” Hunk sighed irritably.  “It’s not just Lance I care about.  You _both_ risked your lives.”  Keith frowned, taken off guard, and Hunk rolled his eyes.   “I’m not mad at you for what happened to Lance.  At least, not anymore.  I know you did all you could to save him.  And without you…” he trailed off, blinking rapidly, as if warding off the image of Lance's bloody figure. “I’m mad because we almost lost both of you.  I’m mad at the two of you for not contacting the _team_.  I’m mad at myself because if I’d just agreed to go with Lance to begin with, none of this would have happened in the first place.”

He looked at Keith, and finally, the anger receded, replaced by guilt and sorrow and _pain_.  

“You two are always doing reckless stunts and sacrificing yourselves, and it’s like you don’t think about how it could hurt the rest of us if we lost you.”

Keith stared at the rim of water in Hunk’s eyes. “ _Hunk_.”

“When it’s me and Lance, I know that I can keep him in check. I know that I can protect him and pull him back from a fight.  But with you…” Hunk shook his head. “You jump in the match and fight _with_ him.  You two compete to the point that it’s dangerous.  And today, when you both left for Drajion, I didn’t know what to expect.  All day I thought you were both going to die out there.”

Keith felt the knot tighten in his throat.

Hunk was right.  Keith was a bad influence on Lance.  They dragged each other into the crossfire. 

“Keith, you have to understand something about Lance.  He might act all self-entitled and arrogant, but beneath all the bravado, he's one of the most selfless people I've ever met.   Sometimes it seems like he doesn't even value his own life—just the lives of those around him.  I don't know if it comes from growing up in a huge family or what.  But it doesn't matter.   I just...I need to know that you’re not going to antagonize him anymore.  That you’re not going to push him into a competition that gets him killed.  I need to know you’re going to protect him.”

Keith leaned forward, hoping Hunk could detect the earnestness in his gaze. “I know I haven't been there for the team like I should.  I know I've been distant.  But that's going to change."  Keith promised Lance he wouldn't leave again. He'd promised he'd step up.  "From now on, I’ll have Lance's back. I won't let anything happen to him.”

Hunk eyed him warily. “That's not all it is, Keith.  It's not just watching out for him on the battlefield. It means you have to take care of yourself too.  It means you have to take care of this team.  Because Lance will gladly throw himself to the fire for any of us.  And we can’t let that happen.  Not anymore.”

Keith bowed his head.  “We won’t.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lance was too antsy to sleep.

 _Again_.

He’d fall and wake in spurts, uncomfortable, restive—at one point he'd woken up, thinking he'd been asleep for at least eight hours, but it had only been thirty minutes.  

He was just thinking too much.  Worrying too much. His music had even given him anxiety, so he’d thrust off the headphones and lay there awake.

It was even worse now that the team was suddenly hyperaware of Lance’s behavior. 

The morning after the incident, Pidge had run up to hug him, burrowing into his shirt, teary-eyed.  Lance had been stunned.  He didn’t even think Pidge liked him all that much—she only ever made fun of him, and he got the feeling he annoyed her whenever he offered his two cents.  So obviously, her emotional display had taken him by surprise.   

Meanwhile, Hunk started following Lance around like a loyal shadow, and Shiro and Allura and Coran were all too concerned with his health and his vitals and his mental state.  Romelle had even taken to engaging with him personally.

It was like Lance hadn’t been on their radar for months and then _wham_ —he was under their microscope.   Lance appreciated their affection and everything…but he didn’t want their eyes on him right now. 

He was only glad he could hide away in Red for so much of the day.  Keith was actually decent company, and he didn’t probe too much, even if he _did_ send him questioning looks every now and then. That silent understanding almost made Lance want to confide in Keith about everything—his plans, his intentions. 

But he and Keith had finally started to get along—better than ever.  He couldn't risk Keith reacting badly to the news.  He didn't want to throw away all that progress.  He didn't want to end things on a bitter note.

So he kept his mouth shut.

Out of the gentle hum of nocturnal soundscape, Lance heard a branch snap loudly in the towering trees around the glade.  He tensed, and he slowly, discretely, reached for his bayard.

A moment later, Keith came wandering out of the trees, dressed in his casual attire, boots on and everything.  Lance frowned.

What was he doing up at this hour?  Did he have to pee or something? 

Lance waited for Keith to go back to his sleeping bag near the ashes of the fire, but instead, he wandered past Lance to the creek at the edge of camp.

He crouched and splashed his face. Twice.

Lance sat up on his elbows. “Keith?” he whispered.

The paladin froze and glanced at him in surprise.  He looked like a deer in headlights. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“No. You scared the shit out of me though.”  Lance looked him over.  “What are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep. Needed to clear my head.”

“Circadian rhythm problems?” Lance guessed.

“Something like that.”

That wasn’t the least bit convincing.  Lance tilted his head to the side.  

“Don’t worry about it,” Keith told him, shrugging slightly and sitting down on the bank, running his wet hands through his hair and over the back of his neck, as if cleaning a sheen of sweat from his skin. 

Lance recognized that process all too well.  He should have realized it sooner.

Lance got to his feet and limped over to sit down next to Keith, resting his elbows on his knees and linking his hands together.   “You’ve been having nightmares.  Haven’t you?”

Keith stared at him.

“It’s been _weeks_. There’s no way your sleep cycle’s still off.  And you haven’t been sleeping enough.  It’s either nightmares or insomnia or a mix of the two.”

Keith gave him an inquisitive, reserved look.

“I know because I’ve been there,” Lance said, peering up at the night sky and the wrong stars written across its canvas.  “I used to have pretty bad nightmares as a kid.  But I didn’t want to wake anyone up. I didn’t want to burden anybody. So I would run to the bathroom and lock myself in with the lights on.  Stick my head under the faucet.”

Keith snorted softly, and Lance studied his pallor, the shadows on his face.  “Do you…want to talk about it?”

Keith didn’t answer for a few heartbeats, and Lance figured this was a little too personal for them. They weren’t quite there yet.

But then Keith looked up at the sky and sighed, frustrated.  “It’s mostly stuff about Shiro.  About him turning on us again, trying to….”

Keith swallowed the rest of the sentence.  He’d never told Lance the whole story about that night, but Lance knew he’d gotten that scar _somehow_.  Lance suspected Shiro had turned on Keith and tried to kill him, physically _and_ mentally.  He'd said something cruel to Keith, something that had shaken him to his core.  

And that alone was enough to mess any person up—watching the person you love most attempt to murder you, listening to the hatred drip off their tongue.  Especially Keith, who trusted few and loved even fewer. 

“Sometimes I think I’m still trapped in the abyss, and when Krolia and I escape, too much time has passed.  We get out and everyone’s dead.   Lotor has won," Keith continued in a low whisper.  "Sometimes I dream that we’re all stuck in the quintessence field, slowly being consumed by it, like Lotor.”

“Jesus, Keith.”  And here Lance had been, worrying over his crush on Allura and going home to see his _family_.  He couldn’t even imagine the type of shit Keith was going through.

“Recently though…they’ve been about you,” Keith added timidly.

Lance blanched. “ _I’ve_ been giving you nightmares?”

“Your _death_ has.”

Keith refused him eye contact, and Lance didn’t know what to do.  “Keith…”

How was Lance supposed to comfort him? Did he comfort him like a normal person?  If he tried to hug him, would Keith strangle him? 

He settled with touching Keith’s arm, skin cool beneath his fingertips.

Keith glanced down at his hand, then up at Lance.   He pinched his eyes shut.  “I know it’s stupid, but—”

“It’s not stupid,” Lance assured him, squeezing his arm. “You know what’s stupid?  I used to have this reoccurring nightmare of a giant grasshopper.  Until I was _eleven_ , Keith.”

Keith grinned a little at that, and Lance considered it a small victory.  He dropped his hand back to his side.  “Have you talked to Shiro about any of this?”

Keith shook his head. “Shiro’s got his own problems.  He still has PTSD from being captured the first time.  And I’m sure _dying_ didn’t help him any.  I’m not going to burden him with this.”

"I get that," Lance said, and he did.  He hated dumping his issues on other people, especially his friends.  The last thing he wanted to be to this team was a nuisance.  "But...because Shiro's been through all that, he might be the _perfect_ person to help you through it.  Just...food for thought."

Keith didn't say anything, but he didn't argue either.  He just looked _...tired._

“Come on.”  Lance tugged on Keith’s arm, standing up.  He walked toward his spot near Red.

Keith fell into step behind him, confused.

“You’re going to get a few more hours of sleep because I am _not_ piloting tomorrow," Lance said matter-of-factly. Yeah, _technically,_ he could pilot, if he really needed to.  He was mostly healed from the stab wound and Keith’s rib-cracking CPR.  But…Red had gotten used to Keith again, and Lance didn’t want to switch things up right before he left.   

He wanted the transition to be as smooth as possible. 

Lance gestured for Keith to sit on his sleeping bag, and Keith looked as if Lance had asked to _eat_ him.  

“Just get in.  I’m going to sit next to you.”

 _"Why?"_   

Lance had thought it was pretty self-explanatory, but on the other hand, this was Keith.  The guy couldn’t even get a simple Voltron cheer.   “Sometimes just having another person next to you helps the nightmares go away.  It gives you a feeling of security, I guess," Lance explained. "Trust me, I would've never gotten over the grasshopper without my brother.”

Lance held his arms out theatrically, as if presenting a new car, not a pile of blankets.

Keith scowled and sat down stiffly, glaring up at him.  “That’s it," Lance cooed.

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Just lay down.”

After some inner turmoil, Keith gave in, and he reclined against Lance’s pillow, turning on his side away from him, muttering obscenities under his breath.

That was cute.  He slept like a little kid, all curled up like that.

An angry little ball.

Lance draped one of his blankets over Keith, and the paladin stiffened as he did so. “Relax, Mullet. Just tucking you in.”

_“Lance.”_

Chuckling, Lance sat down next to him and leaned back against the leg of the Red Lion.  He was just close enough that he could feel Keith’s body heat, and even though Lance was supposed to be comforting _Keith,_ he couldn't deny that he found the warm presence soothing.   Keith was the perfect distraction from the dark thoughts that plagued him.

“I’ll wake you up if you start to have a nightmare,” Lance assured him.  “I’ll be _right_ here.”

Keith murmured something that sounded like a _thank you,_ but it could just as easily have been a  _fuck you._  A moment later, the cosmic wolf joined them, maneuvering between the two paladins and laying between them, half-sprawled over Lance's lap.

Lance blinked.  Blue was trained, but he was still wild, and Lance had seen enough wild dogs back in Cuba to remember to keep his fingers out of reach and his food to himself.   And those were dogs.  Not alien _wolves_ found on random space whales!  

Still, Lance had seen Blue and Keith interact, and he knew there was nothing to fear.  Blue was devoted to the paladin, heart and soul.  It was kind of amazing really. To see Keith so…soft around this beast, feeding him scraps, scratching his chin, playing fetch, cuddling.  It wasn’t _surprising,_ necessarily.  Just…rare to see. 

Nice to see.

Tentatively, Lance stroked the wolf’s back, and the dog immediately molded into him, his tail wagging a few times in a sleepy fashion. 

Lance smirked, turning his attention to the angry, rigid boy beside him.

Slowly but surely, the tension in Keith’s shoulders began to ease, and eventually, his breaths became steady and deep.

Keith slept soundly the rest of the night.

  

* * *

 

Lance sat in the back of the cockpit, pulling his headphones off.  “How much longer? Kaltenecker and I are dying from motion sickness.”

“The cow is fine. I think you’re just a baby,” Keith muttered.

“It’s one thing sitting in the chair and looking out into space as you fly. It’s another thing entirely being tossed around in the cabin.”

“Stop whining. We’re almost there.”

A few minutes later, when Lance started complaining about his _poor bony ass on the stupid metal floor_ , Keith jerked Red violently to the side, and Lance was catapulted into the cockpit wall.

“KEITH.”

“Whoops.”

Lance glared at him and crawled over to sit near Keith’s legs, determined to take Keith out with him next time.   He heard Kaltenecker mooing from the cargo hold, probably as pissed as Lance was about their jerk pilot.

He leaned back against the metal chair. “How long?”

Keith sighed resignedly.  “About an hour.”

Lance didn’t speak for a while. He didn’t know how to handle the fact that Earth was only an hour away.  The Garrison, his family, his old life…

“You said you were nervous before.  About going home,” Keith said tentatively.  A question, if Lance wanted to tackle it.

Lance nodded.  “I have a feeling my mom isn’t going to be too thrilled with me.  And…I just don’t know what the reception will be like.  Will they be angry with me for leaving?  Will they even welcome me home?”

Keith looked down at him, brow furrowed.  “You didn’t exactly have a choice.  It’s not like you knew you’d be gone for twenty months when you flew through that wormhole.”

“ _They_ didn’t know that.”

Not until Holt had delivered Lance’s message a few months ago.

Keith tapped his fingers against the joystick.  “I think your family will be really happy to see you, Lance. They've missed you as much as you've missed them."

Lance hummed, wishing he could believe him.  Wishing he didn’t feel that cold weight in his gut.

Because going home also meant the end of his journey with Voltron. This last hour would likely be his last hour in space for a long, long time.

“What do you miss most about Earth?” Lance said, trying to avoid the pain of his own thoughts.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?  It’s _home_.” 

“I guess Earth…it never felt like home to me,” Keith admitted. “Voltron has felt more like a home than the desert ever has.”

Lance shifted, his shoulder brushing against Keith’s leg.  “I’m actually…really glad to hear you say that.  I don’t want you ditching the team again.”

“I promised you I wouldn’t,” Keith muttered, and he moved his leg slightly, creating a stronger point of contact between them.    

Keith had been a lot more receptive to his touch since Lance had almost died, and Lance wondered if in some weird way, proximity offered a semblance of comfort to him after everything that had happened.   Lance didn’t mind.  He would be happy to leech warmth from Keith any day.  The guy was hot-blooded.

“So…what do _you_ miss most? Aside from your family?” Keith tried.

Lance smiled, closing his eyes to watch the flood of images in his brain.  “I miss the _rain_.  And the sea.  And…eating an ice cream cone in the summer.  No…just the food in general.  Beans and potatoes and chile verde and empanadas.   Don’t you miss Earth food?”

“Compared to Coran’s green slime? Yeah.”  Keith shrugged. “But for the last couple years I’d just eaten Garrison cafeteria food…and when I was on my own, mostly just ramen and frozen dinners.”

Lance gaped and turned around, resting his elbow on Keith’s knee. “What? Seriously?” 

He shrugged again.  “No one ever showed me how to cook real food.”

 _Oh_. Lance closed his mouth.  That…made a lot of sense.  With Krolia gone, and Keith’s dad likely out of the picture…

“Well, my grandma will spoil you rotten, Keith. She makes the _best_ Ropa Vieja—you’ll love it.”

Keith blinked down at him, puzzled.

Lance quirked a brow.  What was with that look?

“ _What_?”  

“I just…I didn’t think I was invited," Keith said.  "To your home.”

Lance stared at him, equally confused. Seriously?

“Uh, dude. Of _course_ you are.” 

Keith smiled and looked away, and it made Lance feel all sorts of weird. He turned back around, shaking his head.  Like he’d just _not_ invite Keith over.  That’d be a dick move, especially after…everything. 

Although, if Lance’s mother ever found out Keith saved his life, she would probably never let the guy leave.   They’d both better keep their mouths _shut._

“I do miss peanut butter,” Keith said suddenly.

Lance smiled brightly. “Oh, man.  I almost forgot how much I love peanut butter.  The first thing I’m gonna do when we get to the Garrison is buy a giant tub of Jif and a _ladle_.”

Keith’s knee bumped Lance’s shoulder playfully.  “Make that two.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fluffiest chapter ever XD


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I just updated, but I can't think about anything else rn, so I just had to get this out. It's short.
> 
> SPOILERS ahead. From here on out, there will be spoilers for season 7 and a LOT of canon divergence. 
> 
> My take on season 7, if you care:
> 
> I loved: Seeing Keith as a leader of Voltron and Shiro as a leader of the Garrison. Seeing Lance and Pidge/Matt with their families. I loved that Hunk got some character development, even if it felt somewhat unresolved. (Also had been hoping Lance would have that arc instead). Loved the Hunk/Keith hug. I loved that druid episode, scary af. I LOVED that Keith and Lance chose each other for the game show, and the look on Lance's face when Keith went back for Acxa. Also, that moment when Lance thought he was going to die was incredibly emotional.
> 
> What I didn't like: I got bored with the fight scenes after about five episodes of the same thing – seriously, how many times are the paladins going to get knocked out in their lions? How many times are they going to tease Shiro’s death, only for everything to work out fine? They could have done the whole battle in three episodes and we could have gotten an entire season of character arcs and fleshed out relationships. Especially instead of adding all these characters I frankly don’t give a shit about – like what was the point of James's redemption without any significant Keith/James interaction? 
> 
> I hated that Lance was called dumb throughout the entire game show episode and really didn’t get to prove any of his actual wit and skill? Like that was torture. I hated that they killed off Adam and (so far) have not really addressed that relationship at all. As far as we know, they could have been best friends from the context we were given. (It wouldn't make me so angry if we had multiple seasons ahead of us with more time to explore lgbt relationships, but we don't.) I hated the Acxa/Keith moments. At the beginning of the series I thought they might explore that relationship, (and I actually shipped it), but now it’s just bizarre. Like I was actually kind of taken aback bc I forgot Keith’s not canonically gay!! lmao. Allurance…I’m conflicted. I don’t like how Allura just got her heart broken and now she’s suddenly interested in the guy she ignored for six seasons. If Allurance happens, this is not the way I wanted it to go. It’s going to feel too much like Kataang for me.
> 
> Not gonna lie, I wasn't even expecting any Klance content, but I was really hoping for some Lance angst. Instead, his insecurities were ignored. Again. So…I’m going to keep at this story as I'd planned. No earth battle atm. Adam is going to be alive and well. 
> 
> Also, I'd incorporated a time skip before I watched the season, but for a different reason. And I’ll be taking some liberties with Lance’s family (particularly with Veronica). I already had a headcanon so…yeah.
> 
> Anyway, enough of my raging. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Pidge’s image flickered on the hologram.  “Guys…I finally got a signal through to my dad.  We just talked over the video feed.  And…and there’s something you should all know.”

“What is it, Pidge?” Allura prompted.

“So…you know how time works differently in space than it does on earth?  You know because of gravitational time dilation?  And bigger objects actually bend time and space?  And then also…relative time dilation, where time moves slower as you move faster…”

Lance’s stomach dropped at the nervousness in her voice. “Pidge, get to the point.”

“We’ve been gone for almost two years,” Pidge said slowly. “But for everyone else back on earth, it’s been _five_.”

Red slammed to a stop, and Lance forgot how to breathe.

“F-five?” Hunk cried.  “Five _years_?”

“Yeah.  My dad says he’s been there about eight months already.  I’m sorry guys.  But I needed to tell you before we got down there.  I didn't want you to be overwhelmed.”

“No, I’m glad you said something,” Shiro replied, his voice strained. 

Lance couldn’t process it.

Five.

Five years he’d been gone. 

For four years and four months his family had thought he’d disappeared into space.  Into the unknown.  He’d most probably been declared dead.

All this time, he’d been counting on returning to his old life.  Finding that sameness, that familiarity. But now, everything would be different.

His niece and nephew would be in _elementary school_ now.  Jessica and Luis would have graduated college.  Veronica would have gotten married.  Marco probably would have had another kid.  All the peers he'd grown up with, all those cadets in his cohort—they'd all be older.   

Lance’s chest started to rise and fall heavily, and he ripped off his helmet, desperate for fresh air.  Shit.  His eyes were _burning_.

“Lance?” Keith whispered behind him.

But Lance barely heard him.

His poor mother.  She’d lost his father and then _Lance_.  His siblings had to watch her mourn him without being able to bring her any form of closure.

Five years.

Was Cuba even the same?  Had climate change _wiped it out_?  

“Lance.”

Sturdy hands fell on his shoulders, and Lance looked up to see Keith crouching in front of him, concern flashing in his stormy eyes.  “Hey, _breathe_.”

Lance bit his lip to keep the sob in, shaking his head back and forth as he tried to find air.

He opened his mouth only to release a shaky gasp.

Five years.

“I…” he tried, but he couldn’t, he _couldn’t_.

Worrying his lip, Keith tugged Lance forward into an embrace, pulling him tight against him.  Wrapping his arms around him.  “I’m sorry, Lance.”

Lance sat there for a second, crying—confused. 

Keith was hugging him.

 _Keith_.

He didn’t think Keith knew how to _do_ that.

But Lance hadn’t been hugged in a long time, and he needed it right now, dammit. He dropped his head into Keith’s shoulder and melted against him, clutching at his armor.

Keith held him firmly, and Lance felt the tears slide over his face.

Pathetic.

He was pathetic.

                                                                 

“—only have a little ways to go.  About ten minutes….” Pidge was saying.

Lance stilled in Keith’s arms, and Keith cleared his throat. “I think we need another ten to just…process this, Pidge.  Let’s take a short break before we go home.”

Lance closed his eyes, grateful for Keith’s understanding.

“Okay.  Take a few minutes to yourselves,” Shiro decided, and Lance had a hunch he knew exactly what the situation in Red looked like right now.  “We’ll regroup in ten.”

“Everybody think of some good lines to throw in Iverson’s face,” Hunk added weakly. 

"Does it have to be a line? Can't it be a _fist_?" Pidge murmured.

Keith turned off the com on his helmet, sitting back slightly to look at Lance.

Lance wished he wouldn’t.  This was humiliating. He was _crying_. In front of Keith.  And nobody was even dying!

“Sorry,” Lance muttered, wiping his eyes, sitting back on his hands.  “It just…it hit me harder than I expected.”

“I know," Keith said quietly.

“I uh…thanks.  I needed that,” Lance admitted.  “You give surprisingly good hugs for someone so… _you_.”

They locked eyes, and Lance was startled to see a blush spread across Keith’s face.

Shit. Had he made this weird?

He wiped his eyes again and offered Keith a faint smile. “Any chance you can erase this from your memory? Like, forever?”

He expected Keith to chuckle or scoff, not stare at him so _intently_.   “Why do you do that?”

Lance blinked.  “Uh…do what?”

“Why is it so hard for you to be vulnerable around me?" Keith hissed, dark locks of hair falling into his eyes. "Unless you’re _drunk?”_

Lance raised his brow.  Vulnerable?  Since when did Keith like dealing with people and their feelings?  If Hunk or Pidge or any of them got teary, Keith was the first one to step out, and Shiro was the first to step in.  

“Like you’re one to talk,” Lance complained.  It took a crowbar to pry Keith open.

Keith scowled, but the heat wasn’t there.  He just looked sad. “You don’t have to put on this front when you talk to me about real shit, Lance.  Okay?  I want you to be able to come to me about important things.  I don’t give a fuck if you cry in front of me or not. It doesn’t make me think any less of you.  I _want_ to be here for you.”

Lance was speechless.

Keith…blatantly admitting that he wanted to be Lance’s support?  Was this even real life?

Was Keith a _clone?_

He watched Keith rise and plop back into his pilot seat, ignoring Lance’s incredulous gaze. 

 

* * *

  

Lance stared out the glass.

She was even more breathtaking than he remembered.

Blue oceans.  Green forest and barren brown landscapes.  Swirls of white clouds.

It was like seeing an old friend after years. A friend you worried you’d never see again.  A friend whose face had started to become harder and harder to recall.

There was silence on the coms for a few minutes as the paladins took it all in.  

“We made it, team,” Shiro said.  “We’re home.”

Lance felt fresh tears dripping down his cheeks, down his chin, onto the floor.  He could feel Red’s heartbreak and sweet comfort rippling through him, and he wondered if Keith could feel it too. 

Five years they’d been away.

Twenty months since he’d planted his feet on his home planet.

“Wow,” Hunk marveled. “I’ve got goosebumps.  Anyone else got goosebumps?”

“It’s…breathtaking,” Allura added tentatively, like she could sense the raw emotion within the paladins.  “It reminds me a bit of Altea.”

“Wait till you see the ocean,” Lance heard himself say.  “There’s nothing like it.”

And it was true.  After all the planets they’d seen, none of them came close.  Sure, some of them had towering mountains.  Some of them had lush trees and spectacular sunsets.  Some of them even had large bodies of water. 

But none of them had an ocean like Earth’s.

Pidge cleared her throat.  “My dad says the Garrison is waiting for us.  For Voltron.”

“Let’s give them what they want then,” Shiro said.  “ _Converge_.”

 

* * *

  

Voltron descended slowly, and Keith watched the crowd of cadets and officers gather below them.  They were accompanied by tanks and missiles and fighter jets—a precaution Holt couldn’t shake Iverson from taking.

Not exactly the warm welcome they were expecting. Definitely not the parade Lance had anticipated.

“They all look a bit on edge,” Allura observed.  "Should we be concerned?"

“Deep down they probably didn’t believe Holt,” Shiro replied.  “They’re in shock.”

“Let’s go down.  Might help once they see us,” Keith said, eager to stretch his legs, eager for Lance to get back to what he missed more than anything. 

The paladins disengaged their lions and emerged, sporting their armor, bayards at the ready.  Keith took a moment to treasure the firm earth beneath his feet, the familiar gravity, and the smell of jet fuel.

It carried an emotional punch he wasn't ready for.

The students around them gawked as the team moved toward Iverson and the other officers.  Keith could hear the younger cadets murmuring in awe, dropping Shiro’s name a few times.

Keith felt Lance elbow him in the side.  His eyes flickered to their left, and Keith followed his gaze to James Griffin, older and just as stupid looking.

His eyebrows were high on his forehead, and he still wore the same scowl on his face.  Lance powered up his assault rifle, staring James down threateningly, and Keith grinned, shoving his weapon down and away.

But the intimidated look on James's face didn't escape him.

They stopped in a line before the Garrison faculty.  After five years, they all still looked the exact same.  Except for the surprise in their eyes, the incredulity in their gazes. 

An inkling of respect in their stances. 

“Takashi Shirogane.”

“Commander.”

Iverson lifted a brow, smirking a little as he held out his hand.  “Have I got some questions for you.”

Keith half-expected Shiro to punch the guy across the face after what he’d done to him.  But this was Shiro, so of course he just smiled and shook the man’s hand.   “My team and I will be happy to debrief you and the council.  But first, I think some reunions are in order.”

Iverson nodded agreeably, and he waved his hand at the men standing guard.  They parted, letting a stream of people through.

Sam Holt stood before them, his wife at his side.  She took in the sight of the paladins and almost buckled.  “Katie.”

“ _Mom_.”

Pidge rushed forward and fell into her family’s arms, sobbing in relief, spluttering apologies.

Another couple stood behind them, staring out at Hunk lovingly.  The woman cried into her hand, and Hunk smiled so wide, Keith hardly recognized him.

He tackled his parents in a warm, desperate hug, lifting them up off the ground.  Soft laughter echoed through the Garrison.

Keith expected Adam to show up next, but there was no one else waiting with the guards.  Keith glanced at Shiro warily, his heart aching when he saw Shiro scouting for that familiar face.

His chest hurt even worse when he saw Lance standing there, alone, desolate. 

His family wasn’t here.

“Lance,” Keith whispered sadly, but Lance turned to him with an empty smile.

“It’s okay.  In my message I told them I’d come to them when we got back.  I didn’t want them to pay for visas and tickets for the whole family.”  He straightened, slapping Keith on the back. “Besides, I didn’t want them to see me like this." He gestured to his getup.  "This changed person surrounded by all the hype. I want them to see me when I’m _me_ , you know?”

Keith frowned.  How could Lance of all people not want his closest friends and family to see him as a hero?  As a paladin of Voltron?  The guy had wanted a goddamn  _parade_.

“Lance, is that you?” Hunk’s mother cried, and Lance grinned, dragging Keith over to the plump woman in the flowery dress.  “Look at how handsome you are!”

She yanked Lance into a hug, and Hunk’s father gripped his shoulder, squeezing hard. “It’s good to see you too,” Lance wheezed, patting her back—clearly unable to breathe.

“Not as good as it is to see you and our Hunk,” she cried happily, wiping her tears as she pulled away.  She narrowed her eyes at him, looking him over. “But too skinny.  Hunk should know better than to let you get this way.  Did you even eat in space?”

Lance sniggered, eyeing the bigger boy. “Hunk took care of all of us, every day.  He was the chef and the tech man and our rock and we wouldn’t have made it out alive without him.”

“Lance.” Hunk rolled his eyes, but he flushed under all the praise. 

“That’s my boy,” Hunk’s father said, mussing Hunk’s hair.  Hunk laughed, eyes glistening.

“And who’s this?” Hunk’s mother asked, peering at Keith warmly.

Lance opened his mouth, but Hunk stepped in, draping his arm over Keith’s shoulder. “This is Keith.  He’s incredible.  You should see him pilot, Mom!  And he uses this super cool Marmora blade when he fights, and he’s actually half-Galra, the species that, you know, wants to take over the whole universe, but don’t worry. Keith’s cool.  Really cool—”

Keith listened to him ramble on about the team and random stories that freighthopped his train of thought. He waved over Allura and Coran and the others and introduced them one by one.  Eventually Pidge walked over with her parents and everyone was laughing and joking and sharing stories.  Full of _remember when’s_ and _you’ll never believe’s_.

Keith was glad to see everyone together, relieved, happy.

He spotted Lance on the side of the huddle, watching the group with one of the softest looks he’d ever seen on the paladin’s face.  No envy. No pain.

Just fondness _._

Just _love._  

* * *

  

Over the next three days, the team debriefed the council on their time in space.  Holt had already filled the Garrison in on most of the details about Voltron and the Galra, but Iverson still asked the paladins to give an explicit account of their story.

While Keith hated the officials' skepticism about their exploits and their level of experience, he savored the look on their faces when Allura or Krolia snapped out a response that chilled the blood of everyone in the room. 

They'd never seen an alien species before.  Least of all, two fierce, badass female aliens with no chill.  At all.

As the hours passed, Keith struggled to keep his temper under control. 

The paladins had known war.  They knew what it took to survive.  These old timers knew _nothing_.  

They had no idea what they were up against.

But over the last eight months, Holt had tried to change that.  He’d begun developing new Altean-inspired tech and artillery—a new way for Earth to defend itself against Galra forces.  

He’d also been building the framework for a new Castle, waiting for the council to approve of the plan.  And finally, after _days_ of interrogating the team, they did.  

When the meeting ended and the team finally got a moment to themselves, they took refuge in one of the lounges. 

“I feel like I just finished jury duty,” Hunk sighed, falling face-first onto the couch.

“Those geezers acting like they know more about Galra war tactics than we do,” Pidge muttered under her breath. “I can’t wait to go back to space.  Humans are idiots.”

Krolia huffed in agreement.

Keith felt his gaze drift to Shiro, who stood apart from the rest of them, staring down at the ships being constructed below.

Keith walked over to him, watching his profile carefully.  Shiro was upset.  _Really_ upset.  And he was holding it all in, buried under that mask of calm.

“Adam?” he asked, and Shiro actually flinched.

“He’s...working internationally.  Right now he’s training pilots in Japan, helping out with their space program.”

“Does he know you’re back?”

Shiro pressed his lips together.  “I don’t know.  Holt returned eight months ago, so he has to know I’m alive.  But…”

“You could go visit him,” Keith tried lamely.

“It’s been five years, Keith,” Shiro said, and he sounded so _tired_ , so sad.  “He thought I was dead for four of those.  I’m sure he’s moved on with his life.”

“Maybe, maybe not." He gripped Shiro’s arm, and finally, the paladin tore his gaze from the windowpane to look him in the eyes. “You were going to spend the rest of your _life_ with him, Shiro.  You can’t just give up on that.”

Shiro’s eyes wilted, and he opened his mouth to respond when the door burst open.  Iverson stood there with his hands balled into fists, a vein pulsing in his forehead.

Bad sign.

“McClain!”

A beat of shock, and then Lance shot to his feet.  “Sir?”

“Get to the communications room.  Now.”

Lance’s face crinkled in confusion.

“Your sister has been calling the Garrison nonstop for the last two days,” Iverson growled. “She’s been calling my _home_ phone, and I don’t know how the _hell_ she even got her hands on it.  Now she’s threatening to release classified information about Kerberos and Voltron to the public if we don’t let you speak to her.”

“Veronica,” Lance guessed, smiling softly.

“That’s right.  Now let’s go.  I’m going to give you explicit instructions on what you can and cannot disclose, so pay attention.”

Lance shot Keith an excited, nervous look and followed after the officer.

Keith smiled. 

* * *

  

Iverson told Lance to watch his mouth, and then he slammed the door so hard, the whole wall shook. 

Lance swallowed, taking the earpiece.

“Hello?”

“Who is this?  Which _useless_ cadet am I speaking to now?”

Her voice was just as crisp and powerful as it had always been.  Lance closed his eyes.

"It's me, Veronica."

A shaky gasp.  

"...Lance?"

She said it so softly, almost like a prayer. 

A second later, she let out a jumble of excited exclamations and demands, ending with, “It’s _him!”_

A chorus of shouting erupted from the other end of the line.  Something shattered, and it was quickly followed by profuse swearing and the sound of someone getting beat with a chancla.  Lance felt the tears dampen his eyes for the millionth time that week.

“You’re all there?” he whispered.

“Yes. Let me put you on speaker phone,” Veronica said.  Suddenly Lance was assaulted by a string of sentiments from his siblings mingled with Spanish curses and _thank-God's._  

"Shut up! One at a time!" 

It quieted to the sound of sniffling and soft laughter.

“Mom?” Lance asked, desperate for her voice, for her forgiveness.  More than anything.

“I’m here, mijo,” she said, and he could tell from her voice that she was crying.  “I’m here.”

The tears came like a flood.  Lance swallowed thickly. 

“Jessica? Luis? Marco?”

“We’re all here, Lance,” Marco said, so gentle, just like Hunk. 

“We missed you,” Luis added. “You dumbass.”

“ _Lenguaje_!” his mother chided, and he could hear Jessica’s sweet laugh.

“I missed you too. All of you. Every day,” he choked out.  He paused, realizing there was one voice missing. One voice that definitely should have been there.  “Mima?”

Silence.

A long, stretching silence.

Lance’s stomach dropped like a stone.    _No._

 _"_ "Is she..."

“She’s with Pipo now,” Veronica put gently.  "And Dad." 

Lance pulled the speaker away from his mouth for a moment, trying to compose himself.  _Mima..._

"She always knew you would come home," Jessica told him.  "She _never_ lost hope."

Lance bit his cheek.  He could imagine his family’s tender faces in that moment, the looks of compassion and empathy.

God, he missed them.

“When are you coming home, mijo?”

“A few days, a week at most.” Lance sniffled, chuckling a little at his own relief.  They still loved him.  They still wanted him back. 

How could he have ever doubted them? 

“Also, I’m…I’m bringing some friends.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time we go to Cuba!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't get my Klance fix through tumblr bc it's a war zone right now, so I just cope by writing more of this first class garbage. 
> 
> This story is finally shifting from almost-possible realistic depiction to full-blown fanfic now. I'm throwing in the stupid tropes. I'm kicking up the fluff a notch. Buckle your seatbelts friends: pining Lance is finally here.

It had taken nearly a week and a half before Lance was allowed to go home.

The Garrison had put all of its faculty on the engineering phase of the new Castle, hoping to get it up and running by the end of the month—a lofty task, but not impossible.  Coran, Allura, and Holt had spent every waking moment designing the Altean elements, while the others had helped in any way they could.  Pidge and Hunk drafting custom technological blueprints, Keith and Shiro using their lions as cranes and tractors.  Lance running around, offering refreshments and his best jokes.  

But as time passed and the construction became more elaborate, everyone but Coran had nothing much to contribute.  And when the Garrison realized they’d drained any and all usefulness from the team, they were finally released to do as they pleased (within reason).

So Lance told them to pack their bags immediately—they were going to Cuba.

Or at least, some of them were. 

Pidge had elected to stay behind and integrate her own hacking software into the Castle’s new mainframe.  But more importantly, she missed her family.  She wanted to spend as much time with them as she could, soak up their love—something Lance could completely understand.  Plus, they both agreed Pidge wasn’t much of a beach bum.  She liked her tech sand-free.

Hunk had a similar mindset.  He was planning to spend a week or two with his extended family in Samoa, promising Lance he’d visit some other time.   Romelle and Coran decided to hang back as well, determined to broaden Earth’s understanding of Altean technology and culture and strengthen their alliance.

That meant Allura, Keith, Shiro, and Krolia were coming home with Lance, and Lance couldn’t have been more excited.

He was on a high all day, knowing in just 24 hours, he’d be sitting in his living room, enveloped in his family’s arms. 

He was lying in bed, dead to the world, when he felt his stomach flop over, growling and gurgling viciously.  Sighing, he crawled down from his bunkbed, careful not to wake Hunk below him.

He crept through the dark halls of the Garrison, trying to remember how to navigate the metal maze.

Was it right, then left?  Or right, right, left…

“Lance?”

He jolted.  “ _Quiznak_!”  

Behind him stood Keith with an innocent, curious gaze.  

“ _Keith_.  Why are you jumping out of the shadows like a _psycho_??” Lance hissed, holding his hand over his chest, panting. 

Keith’s face pulled into a scowl—naturally.  “Why are you wandering around like a little kid lost in the grocery store?”

 “I was _hungry_.  I couldn’t remember where the vending machine was.”

Keith’s tired eyes crinkled slightly in amusement, and he tilted his head—a gesture for Lance to follow him.  Intrigued, Lance walked behind him down the long, moonlit corridor, his brow furrowing more and more with each step.

Keith was wearing a black t-shirt and baggy gray sweatpants that hugged his shins—pajamas.  Lance wasn’t sure he’d ever _seen_ Keith in pajamas before. Especially not with his stupid boots on at the same time.   What a dweeb.

Lance’s eyes lingered on the boy’s gloveless hands swinging at his sides.

Keith…had hands.

 _Obviously, Keith had hands_.  But…

He just…hadn’t seen them bare since they attempted to swim in the Castle’s pool that time.  He always covered them up with his fingerless gloves or his Marmora gear.

Lance wondered briefly if his hands were soft. 

Probably not.  He’d lived in the desert his whole life, and he didn’t moisturize.  Plus, with all the swordfighting and blade-wielding they were probably calloused and scratchy and….

And why was Lance thinking about Keith’s _hands_?

They finally reached the machine, and Lance tore his gaze from Keith to stare at the glass.  He gaped.  “Oh, no! They’re all out of Hot Cheetos!”

“You were going to eat _Hot Cheetos_. At one in the morning.”

“What’s your _point_?”  Lance settled on a bag of Chex Mix and slid a few coins into the slot, punching in the correct number aggressively. “Why are _you_ up anyway?  You getting revenge on Griffindork?  Pulling that _Parent Trap_ stunt with the honey and the feathers?”

Keith rolled his eyes, but Lance could see the shame in his expression, the tightness of his jaw.  The dark circles under his red eyes.

 _Oh_.

Lance’s face broke with understanding.  “How many nights have you been out here, Keith?”

The paladin fidgeted.  “A few I guess.”

“As in?”

“As in a _few_.”

Lance glared at him, prepared to launch into a lecture about sleeping habits, but then he realized his snack was _stuck_.  The damn thing hadn’t come out!!  And the machine had swallowed his only American money.

“No.  Are you _serious_?” he cried, trying to shake the machine but discovering that it was, in fact, made of steel like every other fucking thing in this stupid place, and it didn’t budge.  Lance dropped his forehead against the glass, staring at the bag of Chex Mix despairingly.  “Why is my life like this?”

“You’re so melodramatic,” Keith muttered, pushing him out of the way.  He knelt at the base of the machine and held the hatch open. He looked up at Lance. “Push the change button a few times.”

Lance slammed the button repeatedly.

After ten seconds there was a clink of change in the coin return slot.

Lance gaped at his magical refund.  “How?”

“An old trick,” Keith told him, a playful twinkle in his eye.  “Now try again.”

Lance was half-tempted to get a different snack just in case.  But he tried for the Chex Mix once more, and this time, the first bag and the second both dropped down into Keith’s hand. 

“For your troubles,” Keith said with a smirk, handing him the two snacks.

“Don’t you want one?  You know, for your _chivalry_?”

Keith shook his head as he stood from his crouch.  “I’m not hungry.”

Right.  He wasn’t out here for a late night snack. He was out here because his dreams _haunted_ him.

Lance frowned as he ripped open one of the bags. “So…you’ve been out here walking around every night like a creepy hall monitor?  Because of the nightmares?”

Keith stuck his hands in his pockets, looking at the wall over Lance’s shoulder. “I…just don’t like sleeping anymore.  What’s the point if I’m just going to wake up all…messed up?  Besides.  I’ll pass out from exhaustion eventually.”

“Yeah. Or _die_ ,” Lance scolded.

Keith ignored him, walking away. “You’re worse than Shiro.”

Lance padded after him.  “Keith, this isn’t _healthy_.  You need to sleep.”

“Well I can’t.”

“Maybe you just need some help.” 

Keith looked him over.  “ _Help_?”

Lance sighed. He’d been hoping Keith would have suggested something first.  Lance didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.   

“As I recall, the last time you slept next to me, you slept like a rock...”

Keith just looked at him blankly. 

“Dude, sometimes you can be really dense.” Lance grabbed Keith by the elbow and started dragging him toward his room.  “You’re bunking with _me_.”

Keith dug his heels into the floor. “You can’t be serious.”

Lance glared at him over his shoulder.  “I’m dead serious.  I’m sleeping next to you, and you’re going to appreciate it.”

Keith tugged on his arm insistently.  “This is a terrible idea.”

Why was Keith being so stubborn about this?  It wasn’t a big deal.  It’s not like they hated each other anymore. So why—

 _Oh,_ Lance realized, as they turned a corner and a window illuminated the heavy circles under Keith’s eyes—the deep blush spreading across his face. _Right_.  Keith didn’t grow up with siblings.  He wasn’t used to this kind of platonic intimacy. Sharing a bed probably meant _one_ thing to him.

“Keith, we’re both adults here. Just because we sleep in the same bed doesn’t mean we’re automatically gay for each other, okay? This isn’t a romcom. I’m not trying to seduce you.  Relax.”

Keith glared at him even harder, but he quit resisting.

They walked back to Lance’s room, and Hunk’s snoring filled the empty space beyond the door. Lance finished off the bag of Chex Mix and turned to look at Keith.  “Hunk’s asleep, so no talking from this point on.”

“That’s—“

“Ah-ba-ba. _Silence_.”

Lance pushed them both into the room and gestured toward his bed—the top bunk.

Keith gave him a look that said, _you have got to be kidding me_ , but Lance abandoned him to go brush his teeth. When he reemerged from the bathroom, Keith was sitting grumpily on his mattress, legs and arms crossed, shaking his knee impatiently. 

They’d come far, the two of them.   A year ago, Lance never would have _dreamed_ of helping Keith out with a problem like this.  Back then, Keith was just this hot-headed asshole with anger issues.

Nowadays, Lance found Keith’s temperament _endearing_.  He didn’t know how he’d ever been intimidated by Keith.  He was an angry, impulsive dork that couldn’t flirt or socialize for the life of him.

“This is ridiculous,” Keith whispered.  “This bed is the size of a _healing_ pod.”

Wow. Keith was seriously paranoid, wasn’t he? 

Lance climbed up next to him, crawling beneath the blankets calmly.  It was only a big deal if they made it a big deal.

And this _wasn’t_ a big deal.

In hopes that Keith would realize this sooner than later, Lance merely turned on his side—as close to the edge of the bed as possible—acting like it was perfectly normal for two dudes to share a twin bed.

The plan worked.

Keith gave up on his stubborn pout.  Slowly, he slid beneath the covers, lying rigid against the wall.  Resigned, but very much uncomfortable.

Lance could feel the heat between their disjointed bodies.   It was an anxious kind of heat, like a living, breathing creature just prowling there, ready to pounce.  A space waiting to be diminished, waiting to be sealed.

Lance realized in that moment how much he just… _yearned_ for contact.  He was seriously touch-starved.  And it was no surprise!  He hadn’t made out with anyone in a _very_ long time.  He hadn’t felt his family’s embrace in years.  The only physical touch he’d received in recent memory was Keith’s.  The day he’d held him in the cockpit during his breakdown. 

That had been nice.

The holding bit.  Not the crying pathetically in front of his ex-rival part.

“You can touch me, you know,” Lance murmured. 

He heard Keith’s sharp intake of breath, and he stiffened as he realized what he’d just said.  _How_ he’d said it.

“ _What_.”

“I just—I mean you don’t have to _worry_ about touching me.  This is a small mattress, so if we bonk knees or whatever, it’s fine.   Don’t worry about waking me up.  Just try to relax.”

That wasn’t exactly what he’d meant, but sure. Nice cover.

“Right. Okay.”

God. Why did Keith have to sound so tense?  He was making this entire thing awkward when it _wasn’t_ awkward, and now Lance was starting to doubt himself.

He fumbled for his headphones to block out Hunk’s snoring and his growing unease.  He was adjusting the volume on his iPod when he paused and reflected.

“Keith?” he asked the darkness.

“What?”

“Do you want to listen to my music? It might…help.”

Lance turned over to face him, and he had to bite his lip to stifle his laugh.  Ten seconds in and Keith’s hair was already mussed from the static of the blanket.  

“Lance, we have completely different music tastes.”

“Excuse you.  I like all kinds of music. You’re the picky one with your 2003 emo bands,” Lance argued. “I’ll just put it on the classic rock playlist, okay?”

Keith opened his mouth and closed it again, his face softening.  “Okay.”

He watched Keith lower the headphones over his ears, cautiously, like the music might kill him or something.   He lay still for a second, listening to the first song Lance had picked.  Then he smirked, and a gentle chuckle escaped his lips.  “ _Open arms_? Really?”

“Really,” Lance echoed dryly. “Just be thankful it’s not my Kesha playlist.”

Keith tutted and lay on his back, closing his eyes.  He took a deep, steadying breath.

Before rolling onto his side, Lance saw Keith’s lips move just barely, like he was struggling not to mouth the words.

Lance smiled into his pillow. 

 

* * *

 

He woke up warm.

Lance lifted his eyelids to the soft morning light, and he _died_.

He died right then and there.  His spirit actually left his body. Boom. Out.  Done with this shit.

Keith’s face was centimeters from his own.  They were so close, their noses were practically touching.  They were practically sharing a breath.

Lance jerked his head in the other direction so fast he got whiplash—the zing of pain leaving a throbbing ache in his neck.  What the actual….

That had been _terrifying_.

And yet…

Slowly, cautiously, he turned back to look at Keith.  

The dark-haired boy lay on his stomach with this head to the side, cheek pressed against the mattress.  His headphones were half-off, the wire tangled around him comically.   He’d thrown the blankets on top of Lance at one point, probably overheated during the night, and his shirt was bunched up around his chest, revealing the pale skin of his lower back. 

His hair was even worse than the night before, ruffled, sticking up in different directions, but the bags under his eyes were gone.   He even had the faintest of smiles on his face.  A look of contentment Lance hadn’t seen before.

Lance stared openly.

Keith. Unreserved.  Brow lax, unwrinkled by disdain or stress.   Lashes fluttering in his dream state.

 _Shit_.

Lance had always known the guy was attractive—he practically shoved that fact down his throat with his athletic build and lean muscle and now his stupid shoulders.  He had good skin marked up with a few small scars.  Soft black hair, even if he wore it in that ridiculous mullet.  And his eyes were…his _mom’s_ , so by the transitive property, they were attractive too. 

But Lance had never really thought about Keith’s face as a whole. 

….He had a nice one.

He was _pretty_.

“Morning, Lance.”

Lance sat bolt upright, knocking his head on the ceiling panel and crying out in pain.

Hunk stared up at him in shock, holding his frothy toothbrush in awe. “Ow. You okay? That sounded bad.”

“I’m…I’m fine, Hunk.”  Shit.  If Hunk saw them like this, there was a 100 percent chance he would misunderstand and blow everything out of proportion. 

Or worse—he’d go tell Pidge.

Maybe this _had_ been a terrible idea.

Keith stirred next to him, and Lance threw the blanket over him spastically.

“Big day ahead, huh?” Hunk said around a mouthful of minty suds, walking about in his giant yellow pajamas, gathering his shower stuff. 

Keith struggled next to him, but Lance held the blanket down over his face, stifling his grunts.  He laughed nervously. “Yep. Big _day_.”

Keith stilled beneath his hand.  He’d finally caught on to what was happening—the state of absolute _peril_ they were in.

Hunk grinned in sweet, sweet obliviousness and moved back toward the restroom.  But he paused just short of the bathroom door, frowning.

“Uh…Lance?”

“What?”

“Why are Keith’s shoes here?”

Lance’s gaze flew to the boots at the base of the bed, and he resisted the urge to _launch_ Keith right off the bunk bed.  “I…um…”  Keith pinched his side—a _get it together_ pinch.   “…I…stole them.”

Hunk stared at him.  “You _stole_ his shoes.”

“Yes?” 

“Lance…why would you do that?”

Lance scratched the back of his head.  “I don’t know.  I guess I thought it’d be funny.  You know, Keith roaming the halls of the Garrison in his socks.”  He gave another weak laugh.

Hunk shook his head reproachfully. “Really Lance?  After everything he’s done for you lately?  Sometimes I don’t get you at all.”

He walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.   The shower started up a moment later.

Keith immediately shoved the blanket off, sitting up and gasping in air.   He sat there stupidly, twisted up in headphone wires, glaring at Lance.

But slowly, the corners of his scowl lifted.  “Shoe thief?”

“Shut up, I panicked.”

Keith snickered, and he untangled himself from the wires, pulling his shirt back down over his stomach.  Lance tried to stomp out the flutter in his chest as he did so.

The flutter in his chest at the sight of Keith’s ridiculous bedhead.

His _hot_ bedhead.

_A terrible, terrible idea..._

“Well?” Lance asked, his throat a little hoarse.  “How’d you do last night?”

Keith lifted his brow. “I actually…slept great.”  He looked at the wall. At Lance. “Thanks.”

Lance beamed. “I’m like your special anti-nightmare charm, huh?”

Keith scoffed, and he threw the blanket over Lance’s face.  “You’re a warm _body_.  Don’t get cocky.”

Lance gaped after him in mock dismay. “Keith Kogane. Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to be exclusive?  I am _shooketh_.”

Keith maneuvered down the ladder as quietly as possible, shaking his head.  But he was grinning.  And Lance silently rejoiced.

He leaned over the edge to look at Keith as he began tugging on his shoes.

“Keith?”

The dark gray eyes looked a little bluer today.  A little softer.   

“We can do this whenever you want,” he said, hating the nervousness that crept up his throat, the image of Keith's happy, sleepy smile flashing in the back of his mind. “I mean…if you’re having a bad night, just…come join me.  I won’t tell anyone.”

Keith turned red again, and Lance figured he probably shouldn’t have added that last bit.  Turning this into a secret arrangement made it sound like something they shouldn’t have been doing in the first place.  “Don’t joke around.”

“I’m not,” Lance told him, earnest.  “This helps you, and you don’t kick or anything, so it’s not like it’s an inconvenience." He looked at the ground.  "Just…think of it as an open-door policy, okay?”

Keith hesitated, but he straightened, dipping his chin. “Okay...thanks, Lance.”

Lance smiled, and Keith swiftly disappeared out the door.

But as the sound of Hunk's singing filled his ears, he felt his smile begin to deteriorate.

Today was going to be rough.

 

* * *

 

Pidge glared at him, her arms crossed.  Almond eyes glistening angrily. 

In that moment, she’d never reminded Lance more of his sister.  Particularly the day he left for the Garrison.

Lance smiled down at her sadly. “I’m sorry, Pidge.”

“I just…I wish I knew how to change your mind.”

“You’ve tried for two hours now,” Lance teased.  “I think you gave it your best.”

She huffed, trying to be mad, but she just looked helpless.  _Confused._

Which was not a word he associated with Pidge often.

Lance stepped forward, pulling her resistant form into a hug.  She didn’t react at first, but then her small arms circled Lance’s waist, and she buried her head in his chest.  

“…I’m gonna miss you, idiot.”

It speared him right through the heart.  “I’m gonna miss you too, Pidge.”

She stepped back and wiped her eyes.  “We’re building a communications system into the new ship.  You can send us video messages.  It won’t be live feed, but we’ll be able to see your messages and record our own and send them back to you.  It might take a while to get to us, but we’ll be able to keep in touch that way...if you want.”

“Sounds good, Pidge.  I’ll be sure to check in.”

She nodded, sniffling.  “You better.”

Lance looked to Hunk.  The guy was devastated, and Lance hated to put this weight on him before he left for Samoa.  He hadn’t wanted it that way.

“I should have been a better friend to you.  If you’d felt like a bigger part of the team, we wouldn’t be here right now,” Hunk said, his eyes watering. “I let you down.”

Lance shook his head. “Hunk, you’ve been a better friend to me than I could have _ever_ asked for.  You’re my best friend.  You’re my pal.  You always will be.  Okay?”

Hunk nodded, biting his lip.  Blubbering.

He stepped forward and wrapped his big arms around Lance, lifting his feet off the floor.  Lance sniggered into his broad chest.  “This has nothing to do with you guys or the team.  I just have to do this…for _me_.”

“I know,” Hunk said, and it hurt, because of course he did.  He knew Lance better than anyone on Voltron. 

Hunk put Lance down, and Lance grinned up at him.  “It’s been a wild ride, Hunk.”

He laughed softly, wiping his eyes.  “Yeah.  It _has_.”

Coran was a mess of tears and snot.  It was borderline ridiculous, but also pretty heartbreaking.

“Coran,” Lance breathed, pulling the man into a tight hug.  Coran's arms hung limply at his sides. “You’ve saved our butts so many times…I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Coran whispered incredulously.  He stepped back to hold Lance at arm's length.  “I should be thanking _you_!”  His bushy eyebrows rose high on his forehead.  “Lance, I am _proud_ to have known you.  Your legacy as a paladin will live on for thousands of deca-phoebs.  I’ll make sure of it.”

“Don’t worry about all that,” Lance told him.  “Just keep my friends safe, okay?”

Coran tilted his head, a few more tears spilling from his eyes into his mustache.  “I _will_.”

Lance gave him a watery smile, looking back at his friends.  “Don’t tell the others yet, okay?  I’m waiting until the end of the trip.”

They nodded grudgingly.

“We’ll see each other again,” he assured them, fighting for a smile, but Lance could see in their eyes their uncertainty.  Their fear.

Their pain. 

 

* * *

 

  Lance boarded Red last, and Keith shot him an incredulous look. “Are you _crying_?”

“Oh…yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, wiping his eyes.  Crap.  He probably looked like shit.  “I guess it’s just…a lot.  Going home.”

It wasn't a lie.  Not when going home meant saying goodbye.  

Shiro gripped his shoulder firmly, smiling down at him under his white bangs. “We’ll be right here with you.”

Lance took a deep breath and mustered the classic smile his leader expected of him. “I know you will.”

“Alright Red,” Keith sighed, placing his hands on the joystick. “Take us to Varadero.”

 

* * *

 

 

“That’s it,” Lance said, staring down at the hill of white sand, the house on the edge of the ocean, surrounded by wild grass and palm trees.  

It was exactly the same.

Rustic and old and _perfect_.

“You should be fine to drop down here—there isn’t anyone around for half a mile.  Just have Red lay down while we unload.”

Keith glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, as if he could discern the anxiety in Lance’s voice.  The crack in his confidence.  He didn’t argue.

Red landed on the edge of the property, and they quickly got their suitcases and duffel bags.  They couldn’t risk any locals spotting the lion.  Least of all the PNR.

They filed out of Red, and Lance turned to look at the lion.  “Thanks, Red.  This means a _lot_.”

Red sent bittersweet waves in Lance’s direction.

“Okay, bud.  I’ll call you down in two weeks,” Keith told him, placing his hand against the metal muzzle and closing his eyes, focusing on their connection.  “Don’t eat any cadets while I'm away.”

Red hummed, almost like the lion wasn’t sure he could uphold that promise, and then he took off into the sky, sending a plume of white sand in the air.  

Lance’s gaze dipped from the sky to the beach below them, the crystalline water.  He breathed in the salty sea spray and humidity.   Then he turned back to the house and began walking stiffly in its direction, his friends behind him. 

He paused at the rock wall surrounding the home. 

The two-story house was large.  When it was built it had been the most expensive property in Varadero—a new house outside the tourist sector?  A single-family residential unit not stuffed into an apartment complex?  Nestled right above a stretch of white beach, a few running strides away from the ocean?

Gold mine. 

A century had passed since Lance’s great grandfather built the house with his own two hands.  Now, the shingles were falling off the roof, and the stone walls were crumbling, loose rocks piling up on the back patio.  Weather had chipped away at the structure, and it looked more like a shack than an abode. 

But it didn’t matter to Lance.

It was and always would be _home_.

“Lance?” Allura probed when he hadn’t moved.

Lance snapped out of his musings, clearing his throat.  “I should probably go in first…”

“Take all the time you need," Shiro said. "We’ll wait here.”

Lance took a deep, shaky breath and pushed through the back gate.  

It felt strange being back here.  He’d only visited a few times when he was at the Garrison.  Holidays and summer vacation mostly.  Back then he’d only been away for a few months at a time. 

This time around…he’d been gone far longer.  And more importantly, he'd thought he would never see Varadero again.

And yet, it felt like just yesterday he’d dropped his mother’s favorite terra cotta pot when trying to move a plant to the other end of the yard (to make room for his Hot Wheels playset.)  The pot had shattered before him, and he’d spent all afternoon frantically trying to glue it back together. 

A boy appeared around the corner of the house, walking his bike toward the patio.    He had to be about nine years old—bronze, sun-kissed skin, dark hair.   Bright blue eyes.

At first, Lance thought he was watching his own memory play out before him. 

But then he realized who this must have been, and the time change punched him in the stomach.

“Diego?” Lance whispered.  

The boy froze and whipped around.  His large brown eyes flickered to Lance’s friends in the background, and he dropped the bike, backing away.

“Diego, it’s me. It’s _Lance_!”

Diego gaped, halting in his retreat.  “… _T_ _ío_?”

Lance bit his lip, nodding.  “Yeah, bud.  It’s me.” 

There was no hesitation this time.  Diego charged forward, throwing himself at Lance, full throttle.  Lance stumbled backward against the weight and fell to his knees with a laugh.

“You’re _home_ ,” Diego murmured into his shirt. 

Lance wrapped his arms around him, eyes watering.  “I missed you.”

“Diego? What’s—”

The little girl with pigtails stopped in her tracks.  Diego’s sister, Milena.  A year and a half younger. 

She looked them over, and then she grinned broadly.  She was missing her two front teeth. “ _Lance_?”

Lance nodded, unable to get any words out.  They remembered him.  And not just his face from a picture on the wall.  They _remembered_ him, the uncle who read them bedtime stories about space, the uncle who played with them endlessly, taught them to swim...

Milena raced to join the hug, knocking Lance and Diego back onto the ground again. 

“You’re both so big! I can’t believe it!” Lance managed, kissing the crowns of their heads. 

They giggled against him.   

A woman slammed the back door open.  “What’s all the commotion out here? You two better—” Liz shut her mouth, wide-eyed.  She was the youngsters’ mother.  Marco’s wife.  Her hands rose to her face.  “Dios mío…”  

Lance grinned up at her, and she laughed, choking back tears.  She turned her head inside.  “He’s here!  Lance is _home_!”

Lance wasn’t prepared.

Luis and Jessica literally pushed each other out of the way to beat each other to the door.    Then they stood at the threshold panting, slack-jawed.   

They didn’t look all that different.  Luis was a little less wiry.  A little stronger looking, in physique and mentality.  Jessica had grown even more beautiful.  She was wearing Lance’s jacket—one of two they’d bought at the Championship Air Races tournament.  A matching set.

Lance rose to his knees. He opened his arms for a hug, grinning.

They laughed incredulously, meeting Lance a clash of hugs and kisses and noogies.  They clutched at his clothes like they couldn’t believe he was real.  Like they needed him to steady them from the onslaught of emotions.  

“You still look sixteen,” Jessica marveled, holding his face in her hands, squeezing his cheeks together.  “No _fair_!”

Lance felt something slick on her hands and grimaced.  Olive oil.  

"Get your greasy hands off my face!" he cried dramatically, leaning his head back and away. "I take care of that shit, Jess. Remember?"

She snorted, withdrawing her hands. "Are you kidding?  How could I forget your daily  _routine?"_

"Someone's just jealous because I still have better skin than her."

She gaped in mock-outrage.  

Luis groaned emphatically. "Glad to know you're both still a pain in my ass."

Lance yanked them both back into a hug, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. 

“…Mijo?”

Lance stilled, and he slowly looked at his mother, standing in the threshold, holding her chest.  She looked older. Grayer.  Tired. 

“She’s going to kill you,” Luis warned.  He didn't seem too broken up about it.

Lance stared at her nervously, his niece and nephew holding his hand on either side.  Mutual support. 

“ _Mom_ …”

Tears filled her brown eyes, and she rushed forward.

And, as he’d feared, she started beating him with her chancla.    

“Ah! _Mama_! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He shielded his head, wincing.  His family abandoned him to the assault, stepping out of range lest she attack them too.   But eventually the beating stopped, and his mother fell into him, sobbing.  He rubbed his cheek and held her back, chuckling against the sting.  

He’d feared much worse—he’d been let off easy.

When they’d cried it out, he stepped back, grinning feebly. “I know I have a lot of explaining to do…but first, I’d like you to meet my friends.”

 

* * *

 

The team approached the group awkwardly.

Shiro introduced himself first, shaking Lance’s mother’s hand.  She was a shorter woman, plump and _terrifying_.  Keith knew Lance was nervous to come home to her, but he hadn’t expected her to beat him up.  He was a bit inspired, really.  

“I’m Shiro. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. McClain.”

She blushed, lifting her shoulders coyly. “Mijo, you didn’t tell me how _handsome_ your teammates were.  My goodness.”

“ _Mom_!” Lance looked scandalized. “Shiro’s the leader of Voltron.  You can’t just _say_ that.”

She ignored him.  “You can call me Sandra, Shiro.  Thank you for bringing Lance home to me in one piece.”

Keith liked to think he had something to with that also, but he continued to watch on studiously.

Lance’s sister stepped forward, shaking Shiro’s new robotic hand like it was nothing.  Batting her eyelashes.  “Jessica.  Lance gushed all about you in his video message.  You must be pretty _amazing.”_

“ _Jess_!”

Keith fought a smile at Lance’s furious blush. 

Allura stepped in next, bowing her head slightly. “I am Allura, Princess of Altea and paladin of the Blue Lion.  I am honored to be in your company and would like to thank you for your hospitality.”

Lance’s family stared at her in awe, from her speech or her appearance, Keith wasn't really sure.  Lance smiled nervously, looking back and forth.  

"Lance has been a great friend to me," Allura added as an afterthought, clearly confused by their silence. 

“You’ve got weird ears,” Diego announced bluntly, and Lance started, staring down at him in livid astonishment.

_“Diego!”_

Allura blinked. “Oh…well…”

“I think they’re _amazing_ ,” Lance’s brother—Luis—chimed in, taking Allura’s hand and kissing it, a sly smile on his face.

Keith scoffed quietly.  He’d been _wondering_ where Lance got it from.  

Sandra’s eyes widened suddenly, and her round face lit with a giddy smile.  “Mijo! Is this your girlfriend?  She’s so _beautiful.”_

Lance honestly looked like he was going to cry from embarrassment.  “No, Mom.  She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Are you kidding, Ma?  She’s _way_ too pretty to be with Lance!” Jessica stated, holding her hand out to Allura like she was on display. “Look at her.”

“ _Hey_!”

Allura flushed, and Jessica pulled her into a side-hug, whispering something in her ear that made them both laugh.  All Keith could pick up from the exchange was _"boys."_

Sandra peered at Keith curiously. “Then is _he_ your boyfriend?”

Keith’s mouth dropped in sync with Lance’s.  He just hoped he wasn’t the same shade of red as him too.

“What? _Keith_?  N-no!” Lance cried, waving his hands in front of his face.

“N-no?” Luis mocked with an evil grin.

Lance glared at him, but it was halfhearted. He was too happy to be genuinely angry with any of them—Keith could tell.

His mother whacked Lance in the arm with her slipper again. “You go to space for five years and you don’t bring back anyone at all?!  How long do I have to wait until you are married?  Another five years?  What about _grandchildren_? Mijo, don't you care about your mother's heart at all?  About a poor, old woman with nothing to look forward to in life but grandchildren?  _Hm?”_

“We were fighting an intergalactic _war_!”  Lance yelled defensively, leaping out of her reach.  He moved to stand next to Keith, probably to use as a human shield or something. “This is _Keith._   He used to go to the Garrison with me.  He’s the paladin of the Red Lion.”

Keith sent him a confused look.  “ _Temporarily_.  I also pilot Black, when Shiro’s out of commission.”  He turned to Sandra with a smile that came easier than he'd expected. “Thank you for letting us all stay here on such short notice."

Her returning smile was warm and welcoming, and it did weird things to Keith's heart.

 “Wait, _this_ is Keith?” Luis deduced, half-smirking, half-gaping. “The one you talked about for an entire—”

Lance’s eyes snapped wide, and he threw his arm around his brother’s neck, twisting him around in a headlock and silencing the rest of his sentence.  Both of them laughed and cursed in tandem.

 Jessica looked Keith up and down, her brown eyes sparkling. “This one _yours?”_ she asked Allura. 

 Lance came up for air just to reply with a cheeky, “ _Th_ _is_ _one_ is _gay_." 

Jessica's face fell, but off to the side, Sandra’s brightened, and Keith wasn’t sure why she looked so delighted.   He wasn't used to that response. 

“And you’re _sure_ you’re not dating?” Luis heckled, choking on his own laughter when Lance tightened his grip on him. 

Shiro chuckled from the corner.  

“Um,” Keith murmured, a little overwhelmed by the chaos of Lance’s family.  “Lastly, this is my mother, Krolia.”

Krolia stood in the rear of the group, wearing a black hoodie, Lance’s baseball cap, and dark sunglasses.  The Garrison had been opposed to her leaving the premises, but Lance had gone out and purchased a "perfect" disguise for her, promising the Garrison his family could keep their lips sealed.  After some negotiation and stringent rule-setting, Krolia had been given the green light.

The Galran pulled back her hood, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she lifted her glasses. 

The family stared.  Speechless.  Stunned.

Luis looked at Jessica and mouthed _mom_? 

Lance cleared his throat, wincing a little at Keith like some kind of subtle apology.  “Krolia is Galran.  She’s part of the Blade of Marmora, the resistance fighters who helped us defeat Zarkon.  She’s awesome, and someone should definitely say something before this gets weird.”

They blinked at her, searching for words. 

Milena was the first to speak.  She walked up to Krolia and tugged on the sleeve of her hoodie, staring up at her with wide eyes. “You’re pretty.  I think if you had a tail, you could be a mermaid."

Krolia’s eyes crinkled into a soft, confused smile. “...Thank you.”

Milena beamed. 

"Well....A for effort, Milena," Lance sighed, and the tension in the group burst into titters and quiet laughter.  

“Welcome, everyone,” Sandra said brightly, clasping her hands together.  “Come on in and make yourselves at home.”

Just like that, things went back to normal.  Or whatever constituted as normal in the McClain household.

As they moved inside, Jessica started gushing to Allura about her hair, and Diego immediately sought out Shiro, asking him questions about his robotic arm, adorably blunt.

Milena took to telling Krolia all about mermaids and Disney princesses, and Keith was surprised to see how _soft_ his mother looked as she listened.  Faces like that still caught him off guard, even after two years.

“ _N-no_?” Luis harassed, elbowing Lance, and Lance shoved him over, flushing.

Lance chanced a look at Keith over his shoulder only to glance away again speedily, as if Keith's gaze had burned him.

Keith didn’t know what to make of it. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all seriousness though, I'm much better with angst than fluff. So good on you if you actually made it through this XD Beach days and mutual pining coming soon to a theater near you
> 
> Art on my tumblr [Here](http://gtgrandom.tumblr.com/post/177643762794/his-headphones-were-half-off-the-wire-tangled)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at calendar, realizes there's only one week left till school starts and my motivation to complete this fic in a timely manner completely disintegrates, starts typing furiously*
> 
> For real, I've never updated so fast in my life - which is probably why this is a mess of a chapter. Still, you guys are so great for taking the time to comment so often!! I'm not trying to bombard you with updates, but college + work + grad school apps are just too much and I want to get this done! 
> 
> I thought this fic was only going to be about 12 chapters but it's going to be stretched out quite a bit (maybe 15/16?) I didn't expect to have so much fun writing Lance and his family! I think part of it was me mourning the loss of Dirty Laundry XD.

Keith took in his surroundings carefully, adding bits and pieces of Lance's life to the ever-growing file in his head. 

He hadn’t known what to expect when they arrived—Lance had been close-lipped about the entire ordeal.   Really, Lance hadn’t told him anything about his family or his hometown beyond random snippets of information.  Keith had walked into the situation blind.

But when he’d laid eyes on the large building sitting a bit unevenly on the chipping cobblestone, the bulk of his nervousness had faded.

The home was just that—homey.  Lived in.  Repaired too many times.

It had flaws and leaks and character. 

And it was inviting, just like the people who lived there.

Inside, the downstairs was brought to life by the brightly-colored mosaic tiles on the floor and the warm, golden paint on the walls.  The kitchen was a busy place, overtaken by pots and pans and nets of fresh produce.  On the wall above the stove, five disks of cement hung in a line, each with the mold of a child’s handprint.  The entire first floor smelled like an amalgamation of spices and herbs and _seawater._

A large counter separated the space from the dining room—a room featuring an impossibly long table and a dozen chairs.  A small desk sat in the corner, topped with a sewing machine and a stack of fabric. The adjacent room harbored two worn couches and an array of different armchairs and benches to accommodate Lance’s enormous family.  An old TV sat off to the side, plugged up to several different PlayStations and video game consoles. Pictures of Lance and his siblings hugged the walls.

Keith had never been somewhere quite like this before.

It was foreign to him in more ways than one.  But he liked it.

Lance sat on one of the couches, sandwiched between his brother and sister, the two young children trying to squeeze themselves in to see the pictures Lance had taken on his mini holoscreen.

Sandra and Liz, Lance’s sister-in-law, had taken to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner.  Shiro and Krolia had immediately offered to help, feeling guilty for creating so much work for the family, but the women had laughed and forced them back into the living room to relax, assuring them that guests were always welcome, Lance’s fellow paladins most of all. 

“…Oh and that’s Ryner.  She’s the leader of the Olkari. Basically a metalbender.  Helped us take down this super-evil metal Rubik’s Cube,” Lance was saying.  Keith and Allura exchanged glances at yet another one of Lance’s ridiculous synopses.  “And _that_ , that’s a _real_ mermaid, Lena,” Lance said, and the girl gasped, taking the screen into her own hands to observe the image more closely.  “Her name’s Florona.”

“How many planets did you guys _visit_?” Luis breathed, looking at Keith and the others.

Allura smiled. “Hundreds.  And that doesn’t even include all the uninhabited moons and asteroids.”

“Yeah! Keith and his mom were stuck on a titanic _whale_ for two years,” Lance added, and his siblings stared at Keith in confusion.

Before Keith could divulge that particular story for the umpteenth time, two people came barging into the room, arguing in Spanish.

Lance’s face split into a joyous grin at the sight of them.  “Busy day?”

The pair halted at the voice, turning to look at Lance with wide, disbelieving eyes.

The girl had to have been about ten years older than Lance.  She wore a nice suit and heels, a set of square glasses resting on her nose.  Keith could tell from her appearance she was one of the few members of this family who took things too seriously.   The man instantly reminded Lance of an older Hunk with his large build and strong hands.  He wore jeans and a red shirt, and he was covered in…soot?

Lance launched himself off the couch into the girl’s arms.   “ _Ronni_.”

She pulled him into a tight hug only to wrench him away a second later and glare at him. “You thought jumping through a wormhole in outer space was a good idea.”

Lance lifted a shoulder. “At the time it felt like the only option.”

“You’re _infuriating_ ,” she sighed, her eyes wilting. “And I _missed_ you.”

His brother came next, wrapping Lance in his big arms.  “A paladin of Voltron, huh?”

Lance huffed, pulling away.  “Yeah.”

“I’m so happy you’re home, Lance.  It wasn’t the same without you here.”

Lance rolled his glistening eyes.  He made quick introductions again, adding Veronica and Marco to the mix, and then he started asking his family about their lives over the last five years.

Lance listened to their stories, more attentive than Keith had ever seen him.  Milena was in third grade now, and she’d recently beat all the boys at soccer.  Lance had asked her how that’s possible in a team sport, and she’d just laughed.  Diego had surprised everyone by excelling in his writing class. He’d won an award for best creative story, but he claimed he just took one of Lance’s Garrison adventures and ran with it.  Jessica had graduated beauty school, and she was working full-time at one of the hotel spas downtown.  Luis had studied abroad in America, and he'd graduated with an engineering degree.  He had a job lined up in the States, once he could get his work visa.

“And Veronica?” Lance prompted, now sitting on the ground with his niece and nephew, letting them draw on his arms with washable markers.  Keith didn’t know how he could just sit there like it didn’t bother him—it _had_ to tickle.  Lance wiggled his eyebrows.  “How’s married life?”

The room fell silent, save for the sound of chopping and clinking pans in the kitchen. 

Lance looked from his sister’s face to the others’ tense expressions.  “What. What did I miss?”

Veronica failed to muster a proper smile.  “We ended up calling off the engagement, Lance.”

Lance’s face fell, his brow furrowing. “But…you guys were in love.  It was _disgustingly_ sappy, especially for _you_.  What happened?”

Keith felt his own eyes drift to Shiro, whose gaze had dropped to the tiled floor. 

“We each had our own responsibilities.  He was needed in the States.  I was needed down here,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.  “It just wasn’t working out.”

Keith glanced back at Lance, but the boy still looked confused. “Why were you needed down _here_?  I thought you two were going to live in America anyway.”

Discomfort showed on his family’s faces.  Hesitancy.  _Pain_.

“We hit a bit of a road bump…financially,” Marco explained, and Lance sat a little straighter, the kids both pausing in their marker art. “Mom used the last of our savings after you got into the Garrison.  And when Luis and Jess went off to school, their money was going to tuition, not utilities and rations.  With all of you gone, I was short a few hands, and I had to hire a couple men to help me run the garage.”

Keith frowned.  The garage?  Did Marco own a business here?  He thought that wasn’t allowed in Cuba…

“Veronica decided to stay in Varadero and help us out.  Because she wasn’t leaving anymore, she got promoted to the hotel’s assistant manager.  She helped us all get back on our feet,” Marco finished, shooting his sister a tender smile.

Veronica scowled under the attention. “Don’t make it out to be heroic.”

“It _was_ heroic,” Luis chimed in, “and that _yuma_ who left you can go to—”

Jessica punched his arm, her gaze darting to the kids pointedly.  Luis rolled his eyes.

“What about Mom’s shop?” Lance said.  “I thought she had a huge clientele.”

Another awkward pause.

Veronica looked around to see who was going to take this, but when no one stepped up to the plate, she sighed. “Lance…five years ago you disappeared.  You _all_ did,” she said, her eyes roaming over Keith and the others. “They told us you disappeared into space on a stolen spacecraft.  They told the whole world that they lost contact with you, and you weren’t being picked up by any satellites.  We were told to assume the worst.”

Lance paled, and Keith watched him put the information together, the shadows creeping onto his face. “You thought I was dead all this time.”

“We didn’t at first,” Luis told him.  “We weren’t going to take the Garrison’s word for it.  We needed evidence.  So Veronica and I flew there to get some answers.”

“You _did_?”

She nodded angrily.  “But they wouldn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know, which just made us suspicious.  It was like they were hiding something.  And _that_ gave us hope.”

Veronica was definitely the clever one.  She reminded Keith of Pidge a little—stubborn, sarcastic, scary intelligent.   Hell-bent on finding out what happened to her lost brother. 

“But then the first year went by,” Jessica said miserably, “and we’d heard nothing.  The Garrison stopped sending out scouts to look for you, which of course, now we know never even _happened_ in the first place.   The world moved on from the news story.  Everyone gave up.  They…they held a memorial service for you all at the Garrison.”

That was news to Keith.  He wondered if he too had been recognized as a cadet, or merely a runaway orphan.   Had anyone been there to mourn him?

 _Adam_ , he thought, with a cold twist in his gut.  Adam had probably mourned him.

Him and Shiro.

“We started losing hope,” Marco said, looking at Lance almost guiltily, as if it were his fault for having doubts. But his mouth twitched at the corners slightly. “Abuelita never did though.  She just _knew_ you’d come home to us, and we tried to keep holding on too, for her sake.”

Lance winced at the mention of his grandmother.  It pained Keith to see him listen to this.  To watch his newfound happiness dwindle so soon.  Keith also felt like he was intruding on a very private moment, and when he glanced to his left, he could see that Allura, Shiro, and Krolia all appeared to feel the same way, keeping their eyes averted and sipping on their beverages in small, silent sips.

“Then she passed, and everything just…took a turn for the worst,” Veronica continued. “Mom…” She lowered her voice. “Mom sort of…she fell apart, Lance. I think all that time she was so stressed about you, and then with Mima gone, the last of her hope disappeared, and the grief hit her all at once.  She stopped cooking.  Cleaning. Working.  She didn’t sell any clothes.  Things were…they were really bad, Lance.”

Lance looked like he might be sick. 

“We offered to come back,” Luis added, “to quit school and start working full-time, but—”

“But I wasn’t going to let them throw away all their hard work,” Veronica cut in. “So I stayed, and eventually, Marco got the shop running again, and the little ones were enrolled in school, and everything was looking up.”  She tilted her head and smiled mischievously—a face Keith had seen one too many times on her brother. “Then _you_ just had to waltz back into our lives and spoil the mood with your dramatics.”

Lance snickered faintly.  He shook his head, looking them each in the eye. “I’m sorry this all happened while I was gone.  I wish I could have been here.  I wish I could have _helped_.”

 “You were out saving the universe, Lance,” Marco said. “I think you did your part.”  

There were laughs all around at that one.

“Speaking of which,” Veronica said, shifting gears, “it’s about time you told us about that, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah, tell us about the space battles and Voltron and your super cool gun—“

“And the titanic whales!”

“The _what_?”

“I just want the dirt on Lance.  What ungodly shit did he get himself in— _Ow_! Jess, you can’t hit me after I already said it.”

“Wash your mouth, Luis.”

Keith watched Lance, expecting him to jump right into one of their tales with his exaggerations and hilarious inability to tell a story in chronological order.  But he didn’t even look like he was listening.

Keith couldn’t read the look on his face, the one hidden beneath a plastic smile.  Was it guilt?  Was it devastation?  It definitely wasn’t enthusiasm.

And then Keith remembered what Lance had said at the Garrison.  

He didn’t want his family to see him like some skilled warrior.  He’d just wanted them to see him as Lance, as a brother and a son, not a paladin of Voltron.  And now, with the weight of his family’s burdens on his conscious, the last thing he probably wanted to hear was a retelling of their adventures and victories.  Of his life away from them, saving other families, other _Earths_. 

Keith understood it, sort of.   He knew now why Lance didn’t want to be seen as a hero to these people—right now, he didn’t _feel_ like one.

“Dirt on Lance?” Keith said, keeping his eyes on the paladin, who turned to him curiously.  “I think I can think of a few embarrassing stories.”

Allura nodded beside him, perhaps catching onto Lance’s distress as well, the need for a bit of humor. “Me too.  Although...Pidge has a running list, so she's probably the best person to contact.”

Lance’s mouth parted in mock betrayal, but in his eyes, Keith could detect a flash of gratitude.  A flicker of pleasant surprise.

“Where should we start, Lance?” Keith said, holding his gaze. “I’m thinking…Nyma?”

Lance pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you _dare_.”

Keith finally dragged his eyes away, settling them on the grinning room.  “So it’s probably not news to you, but Lance has this habit of getting himself into horrible situations…”

 

* * *

  

Lance cleared the dishes from the table, his eye twitching from the conversations erupting around him.  He wasn’t even home for a full day yet, and he already wanted to kill everyone.

“What happened to _Kaltenecker_?”

“Yeah, Lance why the hell did you bring a cow back and not a girlfriend?” Luis cooed.

“Because he kept flirting with Allura,” Shiro contributed, smirking _evilly._   

“Pff.  Lance, even Keith has a better shot with Allura.”

“Keith’s gay!” Jessica shouted.

“I _know_!”

Another explosion of laughter.

Lance slammed the plates down in the sink, earning himself a dark look from his mother.  “I can’t believe I come home only to be abused by my family! What’s wrong with you people?”

“Ayyy… _pobrecito_!” Jessica sang.

Veronica made a face.  “Did you forget you’ve always been the youngest in this house?  The source of our _torment_? We’re just getting back at you all at once, making up for lost time.”

“ _Rude_.”  

His gaze swept over the table.  His entire family.  His friends.  Laughing and swapping stories and _making fun of him_.  

He’d been glad when Keith had taken over the storytelling bit, but now he regretted ever letting the paladin open his mouth.  He’d basically _chucked_ Pandora’s Box at the wall and subjected Lance to a life of eternal torment.  

The bane of his existence sat between Jess and Shiro, chuckling quietly.  Lance tried to convince himself that Keith looked stupid with his hair pulled back in a ponytail, that he _hadn’t_ been impressed by the guy's tolerance for hot sauce. 

That a thrill _hadn’t_ shot through his body when his mother called Keith his _boyfriend_.

His eyes found the woman at the head of the table, yelling at siblings for swearing, making sure everyone had enough to eat.  Her face was bright and rosy, and it tugged at his heart—clawed it to pieces—to know what she’d gone through these last few years.

He’d done that to her.

He’d snuffed out her light.

Krolia entered the kitchen and grinned at him, setting down two stacks of glasses on the counter.  Lance wasn’t sure he’d ever received a smile from her before, and it made the tension bleed out of his shoulders. 

She looked him over, her violet eyes lingering on his forehead.  “Your mother really got you, didn’t she?”

Self-conscious, Lance ran his fingers over the welt on his face. “Well deserved, I guess.”

She hummed curiously. “You’re a good kid, Lance.”

He huffed, dragging the glasses into the soapy sink. “Not really.”

She touched his arm gently.  “You _had_ to leave. The universe was at stake.  Trust me, I know how hard it must have been,” she said, and the empathy in her gaze surprised him a little.  “Keith came to understand why I had to leave.  When the time comes for you to go, they will too.”

He smiled at her, nodding appreciatively.  But as soon as she left the kitchen, he felt a yawning hole in his gut.   

Lance could never leave his family again.  Especially not after everything they’d gone through.  Everything he’d put them through. 

Veronica had to stay _behind_ to take care of them all.  That should have been _Lance’s_ job. 

She’d had to give up the one boy she’d ever loved. 

She deserved to live her life now—it was her turn to have her adventure.

  

* * *

  

It was getting late.  The McClains’ exhilaration was finally dying out, the questions coming less frequently.  Voices softer and kinder. 

 They sat on the back porch around a stone fire pit, the cackling embers and ocean waves creating a calming symphony in the background.  

Keith stared at the palm trees, the dark sea beyond the hill.  Thinking about how cool it must have been to grow up on a beach like this, with a family like this….

“You put your hair up.”

Keith watched Lance sit down on the chair beside him, frowning.  What.  Did it look _dumb_?

“It’s humid here,” Keith muttered flatly. “I didn’t want my hair on my neck.”

Lance shrugged, releasing a tired chuckle.  “It looks good. _Samurai_.”

Keith’s eyes trailed to Lance’s, wary, cautious…. _surprised_.   But Lance wasn’t even looking his way anymore, his gaze fixed on his family and their interactions instead.

“So…Marco owns a garage?” Keith tried, struggling not to overthink Lance’s compliment. 

“Technically it’s the family business,” Lance replied. “My dad started it up.  Mostly just to fix cars and bikes.  Now we repair all kinds of things.”

“Your dad’s a mechanic?”

_“Was.”_

Keith stilled.

Shit.

Shit _fuck_.

He was such a dumbass.   He’d noticed the man’s absence at the table, but he’d figured he worked late, or he’d divorced Sandra… _something_.  He hadn’t realized…

No…he’d never even _asked_ Lance about his family.  Or anything about his life.  Not once.

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispered, and he meant it more than Lance could possibly know.

Lance passed him an easy smile. “You didn’t know.”

 _I should have,_ Keith thought.  He most definitely should have known Lance had lost his father.   Did anyone else on the team know that?  Hunk? Pidge? 

Everyone but Keith?

“Can we go see it?” Keith found himself asking.  “The garage?”

Lance quirked a thin brow. “You really want to spend your vacation in a Cuban car shop?”

“I think it’s cool.  As I kid I always thought I’d grow up to be a mechanic.”

“It’s nothing special,” Lance assured him.

“Take me anyway.”

The corner of Lance’s lips lifted, and he tilted his head. “Okay, Mullet.  We’ll go on Monday.”

Keith grinned back, triumphant and satisfied.  

But something in his own smile made Lance’s falter.  He was staring at Keith with an expression Keith couldn’t read.  But it was soft.  And maybe just a little vulnerable.

“Lance,” Jessica said from the back door, holding up an old acoustic guitar.  “Will you play?”

Keith’s eyes widened. “ _Can_ you play?”

Lance hid behind the hand he’d slapped to his face.  “I…don’t know, honestly. I haven’t touched a guitar in _years_ …”

“But you were so good!” Diego cried.

“You were four years old, you don’t remember,” Luis told him, flicking him in the forehead.  Diego crossed his arms indignantly.

“Please play, Tío,” Milena begged, standing right in front of him with her big puppy-dog eyes.  Lance was done for. He’d have to be heartless not to play now.

Lance sighed and beckoned Jessica over, the others cheering.  He took the guitar from her gingerly.

“You can play this instrument?”  Allura lauded, blue eyes wide, _impressed_.  “Music is a noble art in Altean culture.”

“I wouldn’t call my playing _noble_ ,” Lance murmured, settling the guitar over his lap.  He pointed a finger at Keith. “Don’t judge me too hard, Woodstock.”

Well fuck.

Lance wasn’t allowed to get _more_ attractive.

That wasn't fucking fair. 

The brunette began finger-picking a Spanish melody that started off simple and soft, but then it started to pick up, and suddenly he was thrumming and Keith's chest was  _burning_ from the inside out.    

He was _good._

Like, _really good._

Lance began humming, muttering a few lyrics here and there.  He looked up from the strings to his family, mouthing the words to the chorus as it approached—preparing them for it.

Jessica jumped in first, singing boldly in Spanish, laughing because she forgot some of the words.  This made Lance laugh too, and his fingers stumbled over the frets. 

He picked up right where he left off though, and soon his mother was joining in, clapping her hands and singing with Liz, and Marco, and the others.

Like someone flipped a switch, it was lively again, rowdy, and happy and safe, and Keith couldn’t understand how a home could be like this all the time—a never-ending cycle of love and joy, laughter and tears. 

Shiro and Allura watched the family with tender fondness, as if they too already felt strangely close to the McClains, strangely protective. 

Lance continued to play, and Keith found himself smiling at the way Lance’s eyes closed at certain parts, or his lips moved through the chorus.  The way his hands moved expertly across the strings, pinching at the right moments.  Keith knew it must have been difficult after not playing so long, losing all his fluidity, his callouses. 

But this was more than muscle memory. It was _skill_.

Lance locked eyes with him then, strumming happily, leaning forward, as if serenading him. Keith felt his own mouth pull into a wide smile, teeth and everything. 

If he hadn’t been sure before, there was no question about it now.

Keith loved this motherfucker.

He loved him through and through.

 

* * *

 

Once everyone changed into their PJs, it was time to figure out sleeping arrangements, which, Lance thought, was the hardest math he’d ever had to do.  Marco and Liz had their own room, and so did his mother and the kids.  Jessica and Veronica were sharing their old room now.  So that left the bottom bunk in Luis’s old room and Mima’s old bedroom.

“Krolia and I can share the guest room,” Allura suggested, sharing a look with the other woman.  Krolia shrugged.

“So that leaves Luis’s room and the pull-out,” Veronica calculated, putting down two fingers. 

Shiro, Lance, and Keith exchanged glances.  A _what will it be?_ look. 

“Uh, Keith and I can take the pull-out,” Lance offered, figuring he’d save Keith from the humiliation of climbing into bed with him later.  

Shiro’s silver eyebrows rose in genuine surprise.  Keith’s face was red, but he looked relieved.   _The jerk better appreciate this._

Allura looked back and forth between them, thrown for a loop. “You mean, you two,  _together_?”

Veronica was smirking at Lance in a way he very much did _not_ like.

“Sounds good,” Luis said, slapping Shiro on the back. “You bunk with me, asere.  The lovebirds can have the couch.”

Lance felt the heat rise to his own cheeks. 

His family was the _worst_.

“Shiro’s an old man. He deserves an actual bed,” Lance reasoned, earning a few snickers around the room and a scowl from his leader. “And if I’m going to suffer from the flimsy pull-out mattress, I’m taking Keith down with me.”

His siblings just responded with cheeky, conspiratorial grins.  He shooed them away, ignoring the knowing look his mother gave him when she set the sheets down on the couch and bid him goodnight. 

Lance wasn’t _that_ transparent. 

....was he?

Slowly, everyone trickled out of the living room, and Keith and Lance began moving the furniture out of the way to make room for the bed.

“Thanks,” Keith murmured quietly.

Lance glanced up at him, eyes snapping to Keith's reddening cheeks.  The sight filled his stomach with a fluttering sensation.   Not butterflies, okay?  Just… _nerves_.

“Don’t mention it,” Lance said.

They pulled out the wiry frame, and Lance draped his mother’s sleeping pad over the trampoline-like surface.  Keith added the blankets and pillows.

They stared down at their work, unmoving.  “It’s...not that bad,” Keith tried.

“Two weeks, man,” Lance laughed. “We won’t even have _spines_ by the end of this trip.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue. 

They sat down on either side of the bed, sinking into the squeaky, _broken_ bedding, glancing at one another out of the corners of their eyes and sniggering.  

The room was only lit by a single lamp, and in the dim hues, Lance found the courage to glance at Keith again.  He was re-doing his hair, staring at the wall, concentrating.  He wore the same sweats as last time, sitting cross-legged— _casual_.  

He followed the slopes of his shoulders to his pale neck, his jawline, his cheekbones, his slightly upturned nose.  His eye—

Keith was glaring at him.  “What?”

Lance tossed his gaze away, definitely blushing this time. Dammit.

This was so not okay.  Why was he being weird?  Lance had made it years without ever getting all…flustered around Keith.  One night of sleeping in the same space and suddenly he’d developed a crush on the guy?

Lance’s eyes widened.

No.

 _Nope_.

No way.

Crush and Keith didn’t go in the same sentence. Well, unless Lance was crushing Keith at some competitive activity.  That was fine.

Lance sat up to turn off the lights so his face was hidden completely from Keith’s curious gaze.   

The boys settled into the blankets on opposite ends of the bed.   They were far enough away that if Lance closed his eyes, he could pretend Keith wasn’t even there. 

Perfect.

Keith cleared his throat.  “I can’t believe you grew up with all of these people.”

Lance's stomach fluttered again. Was Keith...engaging in _small talk?_

“Yeah, I didn’t know quiet until I went to outer space.”  Lance grinned. “Now it all seems so small.  This house. This town.  This planet.  It’s weird.”

“They seem really…cool. Your family.”

Lance couldn’t help it—Keith carried his own gravitational pull.   He glanced at the paladin again, lying back against the pillows, twiddling his thumbs.

“Oh. Yeah,” Lance admitted, “they’re...pretty great.” 

They lapsed into silence again, and the awkwardness settled over them like a thick blanket.

But…Lance _wanted_ to talk.  He wanted to prove there was nothing weird here. Nothing out of the ordinary.  He and Keith were friends.  Buddies. Partners in crime.

Nothing else. 

“...You think Blue will suddenly teleport into the house and give my mom a heart attack?”  Lance asked. 

_Random, but okay._

Keith made a “Tch” sound. “I don’t know.  I told him to stay put.”

“Yeah, but he’s a dog.”

“He’s a _wolf_.”

“….You’re not helping your case, man.”

Keith raised his palm. “I told him the Garrison wouldn’t let me take him out in public. So it’s up to him now.”

Wait. 

Did…Keith really think the wild, alien wolf could _understand_ him? 

Lance didn’t know if that was worrisome or just fucking adorable.

“I think he has to be able to sense me, though,” Keith added. “I’m probably too far out of reach for him to catch my scent.”

He sounded a bit sad about that, and Lance tilted his head at him. “Do you miss him?”

Keith shrugged.  _Yes_ , in other words.

Lance liked this soft, casual Keith. 

Platonically, _obviously_.

“Don’t worry.  Just feed one of the stray dogs around town and you’ll have a lifelong friend at your hip,” Lance told him, grinning when Keith huffed.  “It’s not a bad way to pick up chicks either.  They see a young, handsome guy with a dog, and it’s almost better bait than using Milena or Diego.”

Keith deadpanned. “You used your niece and nephew as chickbait?”

“It worked.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Sure it did.”

Did Keith just _Sure, Jan_ him?

“Whatever, Mr. I-Couldn’t-Flirt-If-My-Life-Depended-On-It.  ”

A scoff. “At least I don’t use young unsuspecting children to get me into someone’s pants!”

“At least I’m not a _virgin_.”

Lance only realized he’d gotten too close to Keith’s face when the other boy pulled away.  Eyes widening before they narrowed darkly.

Lance didn’t actually know if Keith was a virgin, but he’d suspected.  He wasn’t exactly an approachable guy.  And his head was always on piloting or punching Iverson or Shiro or the _mission_.  Never on things normal teenage boys thought about.

But Keith confirmed his suspicions when he looked away, embarrassed.    

And Lance realized he’d just made this weird. 

Really weird.

Shit. 

He had to fix this, ASAP. What else could he talk about with Keith?  His _mom?_ Was it weird to talk about his mom?

“Are _you_?” Keith asked suddenly, and Lance felt his jaw fall open. 

“What…?”

Keith’s face was difficult to make out in the dark, but Lance could see that he was focused on him, eyes round and curious.   “Is it all hype? Or are you as experienced as you make yourself out to be?”

Were…were they seriously talking about this?? Lance and Keith.  Buddies. Partners in crime?  Talking about their sex lives?

This definitely crossed some kind of line, didn’t it?

…Did it?

“I…I’ve done some _things_ in space _,”_ Lance managed awkwardly. _“_ But I’ve only hooked up with one girl back at the Garrison.  Jenny Harrison.  The blond cargo pilot.  Then everything happened at once, and…with Allura…”

“I get it,” Keith said, but not unkindly. “It actually makes me think more highly of you…to know that you’re not as much of a player as you pretend to be.”

That stumped Lance.  He’d expected Keith to make fun of his lack of experience, not…praise it.

“Yeah well, my reputation is at stake here, Keith.  You need to keep the illusion alive.”

Keith grinned. “Don’t worry. You’ll go down in history as the biggest space slut to ever live.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

They both turned on their backs, smiling up at the ceiling.  Lance realized neither of them were as close to the edge of the bed as they’d been before—the distance between them now halved.

Still, Lance couldn’t will himself to move away.

 

* * *

 

“Hello sweetheart, darling, love of my life,” Lance gushed, his arms open to the sea.  He tilted his head back and breathed it all in, and Keith rolled his eyes.

“Was he always like this?” he asked Veronica.

She snorted. “In love with the water? Yes.  A theatrical geek? Also yes.”

Lance glared at her out of one eye, his hands still raised.  “You're just jealous of our relationship.”

"You're right, Lance.  When I see you flirting with the ocean, I become a vicious green-eyed monster."

It _was_ beautiful though.  Rolling blue-green waves on platinum white sand.  Clear blue sky. 

It was paradise.

They carried the chairs and towels down the stretch of beach.  Apparently the water right outside the house was often susceptible to rip currents, and Lance specified that no one was allowed to drown today.

They traveled a fair distance away from the property, but they still managed to avoid the stream of tourists.  Lance claimed he knew the best spots to swim and surf in all of Varadero, to which his siblings scoffed.  But honestly? Keith wouldn’t be surprised.

After fifteen minutes of trudging through sand, up and down and back and forth, Lance finally chose a spot, and the group dropped their things in vexation.  

Krolia immediately began setting up her umbrella, sharing with Keith that Galra did not tan well.  She wore denim shorts and a white shirt, her ears tucked under Lance's baseball cap, eyes hooded by sunglasses.  The Garrison would probably flip if they saw how exposed she was here, but Lance was right—no one was around, and no one paid them any attention.  

The rest of them had worn their swimsuits.  Allura sported a pink one-piece with a few extra straps twisting around her arms and legs—an Altean trend probably.  Shiro wore his black trunks, a tank top, and a stupid-looking sunhat.  Even Keith wore his old red trunks and flipflops.

Lance threw his board and bag on the ground and ripped off his shirt, impatient to get in the water.   He faltered when he saw the looks on his friends’ and family’s faces.

They were staring at his stomach.  At the deep red scar across his abdomen.

Lance paled.

“ _Co-_ _ñooo_ ,” Luis drawled.

Jessica’s eyes were blown wide. “How did you get that?”

“This? It was nothing,” Lance assured them, voice tight, constrained.   

“ _Nothing_?” Keith said incredulously.  “Lance, you almost—”

“Race you to the water!” Lance cut in, shoving past Luis.  Luis growled and scrambled after him, shedding his clothes as he ran.

Lance crashed into the sea, throwing himself to the waves.

Bellowing with laughter.  

 

* * *

 

Keith watched Lance surf for an hour.  He was actually flawless at it, as far as Keith could tell.  Keith had a feeling he wore the same delighted expression he did when he piloted—exhilaration, excitement, the confidence of an expert.

Afterward, Lance helped Diego and Milena build a giant sand castle, sobbing when the waves washed it out.  The kids patted him on the shoulder, trying to console him.

Shiro finally got to sit back with a good book, and he spent the majority of the day reading in the shade next to Krolia.  Keith was glad they could both check out of reality for once.  They needed it.

Allura sunbathed with Lance’s sisters.  Giggling and trading questions.

“Were there any cute alien boys up in space?” Jessica asked, flipping through a magazine Lance had brought her from an Arizona gas station. 

Allura's brow dimpled. “Well, there was _one_.  But…he turned out to be a sociopath.”

Jessica and Veronica exchanged knowing looks. “Don’t they all.”

Eventually, Lance walked back to the group and plopped down next to Keith. His wet hair fell down into his eyes, and he raked it back, sighing.

Keith had never seen him so…happy.  No stress in his eyes. No exhaustion in his posture.  He was _glowing_.

“It’s gorgeous out here, isn’t it?”

Keith nodded, tearing his eyes away from Lance’s sun-kissed skin.  “Yeah. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Lance twisted the cap off his water bottle. “Right? No beach has sand like this.  No water is _this_ clear. Perfection, my friend.”

“I don’t have anything to compare it to, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Lance squinted at him in confusion. “Nothing to _compare_ it to?”

Keith lifted a shoulder, nonchalant. “I’ve never been to a beach before...on Earth.  This is my first time actually _seeing_ the ocean.”

Lance stared at him, water dripping off his nose.  He looked like Keith had downright punched him in the stomach.    

“I just…I grew up at a children’s home in the middle of the _desert_. Then I was enlisted at the Garrison.  Not a lot of opportunities to drive down to the ocean,” Keith explained.  He smiled a little, trying to mend the blow. “But you’re right. It’s beautiful.”

“Keith…” Lance gazed at him, his eyes flicking back and forth, scanning Keith’s face.  “I didn’t know…”

It took Keith a moment to realize Lance wasn't talking about the ocean. 

He'd never known Keith was _orphaned._

He supposed he’d never shared that with Lance.  It’d probably been pretty obvious, since Keith never talked about a family he needed to get back to, since no one had come to meet him at the Garrison.  But Keith had never explicitly talked about it.

“Uh, yeah.  My dad was a fireman.  He died when I was seven.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance said, but he didn’t say it the way others had over the years.  Like the scripted response it was.  He said it from the heart, like he knew exactly what Keith had gone through.  Because he _had_.

“Mine died of cancer when I was ten,” Lance revealed, and Keith felt a wave of sadness wash over him.  Losing someone suddenly was one thing—you were robbed of a goodbye.  Watching them slowly wither was another kind of pain.  “I wish you could have met him.  He was _fun._ He would have loved to see Voltron." He paused.  "Well…he would have loved to pick Voltron _apart_ and put it back together. _”_

They were quiet for a moment as they both reflected on old memories.

“We’ve never talked about our pasts, have we?” Lance said, glancing at him peculiarly. “Seems kind of weird. We’ve spent over a year in space together and know close to nothing about each other.”

“It would have been easier if you weren’t always trying to pick fights,” Keith pointed out.

Lance gaped. “I was only responsible for like…half of those fights.”

Keith scoffed. “Yeah, okay.”

“Hey, it’s true!”

“Lance, you’re literally picking a fight right now.”

Lance opened his mouth to protest, but he caught himself. He shoved Keith over, chuckling. “Shut up.”

“Lance!” Jessica called, holding a volleyball in her arms.  “What do you say? Voltron versus the McClains?”

Lance’s face split into a devilish, competitive smile, and for once, it wasn’t directed at Keith.  “Hell yeah.  Diego, go get the net!”

The boy glared up at them from Shiro’s side, where he was prodding at the poor man’s prosthetic.  “I’m not a slave!”

“Yes you are.”

“Mom! Lance called me a slave.”

Liz smiled at him sweetly.  “You’re not a slave, baby.  Now _go get the net._ ”

Diego threw his hands in the air dramatically with a flair identical to his older twin.  Lance really shouldn’t be allowed near children—his influence was terrifying.

Keith stood, holding his hand out for Lance. “So, whose side are you on?”

Lance cocked his head, as if it hadn't even occurred to him that he belonged on both.

“Your side, stupid.  I want to watch my brother cry tears of _defeat_.”

He slapped his hand in Keith’s, and Keith yanked him to his feet, fighting a pleased grin. 

  

* * *

 

 “Are you still moping because we lost?” Keith asked, and Lance could hear the smile on his lips.  _Ass._

Lance lay on the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. _""_ They just barely won the third game.  We should have been given a handicap. Shiro’s arm is fragile.”

“It gave him a super-powered serve.”

“Whatever.  We also had two aliens who’d never played before.  You and I had to carry the team.” 

And they had.  They would set each other up for a spike every time, _perfectly_ , without having to utter more than a couple words.  Funny how battle habits translated to normal life.  How their partnership didn't disappear outside their armor. 

“You’re just salty because you lost your bet with Diego,” Keith said.

Well, that was true.  Now Lance had to carry him around on his back for the next three days and respond to “slave man.”  _Ridiculous_.

“Salty?  I’m not the one who swallowed a whole gallon of seawater.”

Keith scowled. “I didn’t do it on _purpose_.”

Lance grinned at the memory of Keith eating it, breaking the surface and hacking up water.  A face of misery.  “Dude, you suck at surfing.”

“It was my first time!”

“I know.”  And honestly, Keith actually picked it up pretty fast—annoyingly so.  But Lance reveled in the fact that he was still better than Keith at something. “But you’re worse than _Milena.”_

Keith turned on his side away from him, curling up into that small, angry ball. “Fuck you.”

Lance smiled at the boy’s back.  “Goodnight, Keith.”

Brooding silence.

Then—

“Goodnight,” Keith whispered resignedly.  “… _Slave man_.”

  

* * *

 

Something hit Lance in the shin, and he blinked drowsily.  What the…

It came again, harder this time.  Lance sat up, groggy. “Dude. That fucking  _hurt_.”

But then Lance looked at Keith, and his irritated scowl parted.  He _stared_.

Keith lay at the edge of the bed, gripping tightly to the box spring.  His blankets had been thrown off—mostly onto Lance.  And the bulk of his hair had fallen out of his ponytail, his bangs plastered to the side of his sweaty face.  He was shaking his head in his sleep, kicking out, as if he were running.

Lance snapped out of his daze and crawled forward, placing his hand on Keith’s arm.  “Keith.”  The boy held tight to the bed, a soft whimper escaping his lips, and Lance shook him sternly. “Keith, wake up, man.”

Keith stopped writhing then, and he opened his eyes, completely still under Lance’s touch. 

“Hey, you okay?”

He looked up at Lance, and Lance felt his heart drop.  There were _tears_ in Keith’s eyes.

He closed them quickly, hurriedly, as if he didn’t want Lance to see.   As if just a few days ago  _Lance_ hadn’t sobbed in Keith’s arms for ten minutes straight. 

Lance helped him sit up against the cushions, and he clambered to his feet and turned the light on, hoping to chase away any of Keith's lingering nightmares. He looped through the kitchen to fill a glass of water and returned to the bed, sitting on his knees in front of Keith, waiting.

Keith kept his eyes closed, holding tight to himself. 

Lance wanted to reach out, he wanted to help him in the way he knew how, but Keith hugging _Lance_ , and Lance hugging _Keith_ —those were two very different things.  He was still hesitant to initiate contact with Keith all on his own.

“Here,” Lance said, and Keith opened his eyes, accepting the glass of water and taking a few meager sips.

“Thanks.”  The rim of water in his eyes finally escaped, leaving a single tear streak down the side of his face. 

He looked so… _broken_.

“What was it this time?” Lance asked cautiously.

Keith didn’t meet his eyes, which was an answer in itself.

“It was me again? Dying?”

A stiff nod. 

“ _Keith_ …”

“I’m fine,” he told him, his gaze fixed on the bed sheets. “Thanks for waking me up. I’ll be okay now.”

Lance studied him, the sweat on his hairline, the tension in his muscles _—_ the aftermath of believing Lance had died on him.  _Again_.

He took the empty cup out of Keith’s hands and set it down on the floor.  “Lie down.”

Keith glanced at him warily.  “What?”

“Lie down on your side.  I’m gonna try something.”

Keith gave him a dubious, distrustful look, and it almost pulled a grin out of Lance.

Lance made a _go on_ gesture with his hand, trying to remain calm about this.  He’d learned that his emotions bled over to Keith in many ways.  If Lance was angry and volatile, Keith was angry and volatile.  If Lance was reticent, so was Keith.  He could keep the paladin relaxed by the way he presented himself.  

Keith sighed, but he obeyed, turning back on his side the way he’d been before.  Wrought with nerves.

Lance left the light on and crawled back into the bed next to him.  _Right_ next to him.  He dragged his pillow over.

Keith stiffened, as if he finally realized what was happening.  “Lance.”

“Shh. No talking.”

“You can’t just make up rules.”

“It’s my house, isn’t it?”

Lance convinced himself this was his duty as a friend. As Keith’s anti-nightmare charm.

He lay down on his side, his stomach to Keith’s back.  Then he slung his arm over Keith’s waist and tugged him closer, the heat swelling between them.

Keith’s breath hitched.  “ _Lance_.”

Yeah.  He _really_ needed to stop talking if this was going to work.

Lance released an uneven breath, and he rested his head on his elbow, staring at the back of Keith’s head.  He was surprised how soft Keith was for someone so fit.  He was also surprised how well he molded against Lance’s body.

Not that such a detail was important in _any way._  

He shifted to get more comfortable, closing his eyes. 

Okay.  Alright.  This was fine.

This was _totally_ fine.

…Right?

“Um...is this okay?” Lance voiced nervously, realizing Keith hadn’t relaxed at all.  Hadn’t uttered a _word_.

Keith didn’t reply, still as stiff as a board, and Lance froze.

Shit.

Oh.

Oh _no_.

Had he totally overstepped here?  He had.  Hadn’t he?

Hugs. They were at the _hug_ stage in this relationship.  Not _sideways_ hugs, not hugs on a _bed..._

Lance lifted his arm, prepared to back the fuck away from him, but Keith grabbed his wrist and pulled it back over his stomach in silent protest.  The taut line of his shoulders broke on his exhale, and he nuzzled back against Lance’s chest, burrowing into their nexus.

Lance was totally _spooning_ Keith now.

And Keith was _letting_ him.

Lance stared at Keith’s back, the blotches of red creeping up over his neck.

Well. At least neither of them had to see each other’s faces right now. They’d probably die of mortification.

_How did the great paladins of Voltron die, grandpa?_

_By sharing a fucking bed, that's how._

Lance bent his head, allowing his forehead to rest against Keith’s nape.  Letting himself rise and fall with Keith’s breaths.  Steal his warmth and bask in it.   

A few seconds in, and Lance already felt himself slipping.  Sinking into the sensation of Keith, Keith's spine, Keith's fingers threading through his...

The last coherent thought he had was that Keith smelled like seawater.  Seawater and outer space.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I smell another bed sharing trope.
> 
> Did you guys like this? I know I'm kind of going OOC on Lance's family, but I just had this headcanon for a while and I can't shake it. 
> 
> Next time: Klance gets a talking to from loved ones about poorly concealed feelings


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that Coalition Handbook, huh? XD 
> 
> It finally revealed the names of Lance's family, BUT I'm just sticking with the names I've got. 
> 
> This chapter is full of fluffy, cringey tropes and nonsense and should be called: Everyone Ships It. 
> 
> Not a LOT happens, but the next chapter is mostly written so I'll get that up in the next few days hopefully. 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments/kudos! You guys are awesome.

 Lance woke up, and the first thing he was aware of was his face—rising and falling.

The second was the warmth across his chest and down his legs.

He opened an eye, but his vision was blocked by a pale neck and chin.  A tangle of dark hair.  A familiar gray shirt.

Ah.

What the _fuck_.

Lance was sprawled on top of Keith, his cheek to the paladin’s chest. Keith’s legs rose on either side of him, one arm draped over Lance’s back.   

Lance didn’t know which death would be quicker.  Waking Keith, or slitting his own throat here and now.

He decided it’d be best to avoid death altogether and get the hell out of there before Keith stirred. 

Furtively, Lance placed one hand next to Keith’s head and slowly rose from the tangle.   Keith made a soft sound of protest, and Lance stared down at him.

What.

What was that _sound_?

Keith’s hair draped over his forehead and splayed against the pillow like a dark halo.  Black lashes fluttered under heavy eyebrows.   His cheeks and nose were a little sunburned from yesterday, but not too red—he looked good with a little color.  Especially with his face so...unconcerned, so gentle.  It stunned Lance how someone so aggressive and reclusive could also be so soft…and warm…and…

“Comfy?”

Luis grinned down at him from the side of the couch, and Lance yelped, falling over in a mess of blankets and pillows.

Somehow, Keith didn’t wake up.

 _Miracles_ are _real._  

Lance stood, glaring at his brother as he smoothed out the creases in his shirt. “Hey…uh, you the first one up?”

Luis grinned knowingly. “ _Hardly_.”

 

* * *

 

 Lance drove—and then _carried_ —Diego to school with his sister.  He did so as a favor to Liz. But also because he needed to clear his head.

He had too much _Keith_ on the brain.  

He’d slept in the same bed with Keith several times now.  But last night, he’d witnessed the violence of his night terrors first-hand.  He’d seen what they had done to Keith. 

Were any of the other paladins going through this?  They’d all seen him die, hadn’t they? 

Was Keith the only one still tormented by that day?

Honestly, Lance hadn’t thought he even _meant_ that much to Keith, not for him to be haunted like this anyway.  They’d barely spoken to each other after Lotor.  They’d hardly spent any time together until that night on Portux. 

Lance had thought he wasn’t important to him.  Keith had left the team, after all.  He’d left _Lance_.

But Lance’s near-death experience had been a catalyst, and suddenly, everything was different.

Suddenly Keith was _present_ in Lance’s life, more than ever before.   Keith wanted to be there for him—he’d said so himself.  And he _had_ been. 

He’d also allowed Lance to see his vulnerable side, and he’d opened up to him about his past.  Things Lance _never_ thought he’d be privy to…

And suddenly Lance wanted to make Keith smile, not scowl.  Suddenly Lance wanted to make him blush, not burn red with anger. 

Instead of punching him, Lance wanted to touch him, hold him, lean in close and…

Lance hit the brakes, the old 55 Ford sliding to a rigid stop in the middle of the road.

 _Nope_. 

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the image of Keith’s bedhead, the warm press of his body…

_Noooppppeeee._

He took a few more detours, driving down to his favorite beach spots, the pizza shack, drowning thoughts of Keith in waves of nostalgia.  God he’d missed this place.

When he got home, Shiro was standing on his roof, shirtless and sweaty. He looked like an advertisement.

“Uh, what are you _doing_?” Lance inquired, very much confused.

Shiro grinned down at him.  “I’m fixing a leak.”

Lance glared at his mother, who stood in the archway with a dreamy look on her face. “Ma, Shiro is a guest. You can’t put him to _work_.”

“It’s fine, Lance,” Shiro said, raising an old shingle.  “Got to earn my keep, right?”

Lance rolled his eyes. Shiro was such a _boy scout_.

“Be careful, Shiro.  When you’re done, go hide from my mom before she asks you to repair the bathroom sink, okay?”

His mother swatted at him with a wet rag as he passed her, murmuring Spanish threats.

 “So…where is everyone?” Lance asked, knowing that the lack of screaming and thundering footsteps in the house meant one thing only—empty.

“They’re all out, mijo,” she said, turning around to clean the windowsill. “The girls took Allura to Havana. Krolia has been out with Liz since this morning.”

“And…Keith?” he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“He’s at the garage with Marco.”

“Oh.  Right.”  It was Monday.  He’d told Keith he would take him there.  Of course he’d gone on without him—because he was an _asshole._

An asshole Lance did _not_ have a crush on.

“Why don’t you take him lunch?” his mother suggested, nodding her head at the brown paper bag sitting on top of the kitchen counter.  A neutral expression on her face. 

 _Too_ neutral.

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Is that for Marco and his coworkers as well?”

She blinked at him innocently.  “No.  Just the two of you boys.” 

Lance opened the bag and peeked at the contents.  He looked at her again. _Suspicious_.  

She smiled kindly, but there was a mischievous gleam in her eye.  Lance didn’t like it, but he wasn’t about to pass up homemade food.  Even if it _was_ made with ulterior motives. 

“Thanks, ma,” he said, and he kissed her cheek on his way out, bag in tow.

He was all the way to the gate when she called, “Have a nice _date_ , mijo!”

Aaand there it was.

 

* * *

  

Lance stood before the old garage, a building surrounded by piles of rusted junk metal and industrial garbage.  It had been his playground as a child, much to his mother’s chagrin.  Lance had spent hours looking through the scraps, scavenging for useful tools for his dad.  He even tried to build his own metal rocket out here.

But he’d never been the genius in the family, so he’d given up as soon as Luis and Veronica told him he’d need engine fuel and thrusters and all sorts of other nonsense.  He’d leave the _building_ to his siblings. 

New cars were too expensive for locals, so most Cubans kept their old cars and continued fixing them up for as long as they possibly could.  That meant Marco’s business did really well, and it was actually responsible for keeping a majority of the fleet alive and running.

Just like most private businesses though, it was tough finding the replacement parts and tools to keep the business kicking.   If Marco needed original or reproduction parts, he’d have to buy from a middleman in Miami who had an outlandish markup.  Lance would always try and bring his brother home anything he could from the Garrison and American car shops. But it wasn’t a long term solution.

Innovation _was_.

Marco often had to swap out parts of different car brands.  Sometimes he even had to pick apart old lawn mowers and electric chainsaws for the equipment he needed.  Rusting sheet metal was often replaced with washing machine or refrigerator shells.  Creativity was _critical_ down here.

And Lance missed that.  In America life was just...easy.  But in Cuba, his family had to constantly develop their problem-solving skills.  They never had it easy—they probably never would.  And something about that work ethic, that challenge to get by...Lance had grown to love it.  It made him proud.

Lance stopped in the middle of the garage, staring up at the framed picture hanging on the wall.  His father’s face smiling down at him.

Lance remembered when his brother and father would watch U.S. auto repair shows on TV, learning what they could, admiring all the advanced and abundant technology in other parts of the world.  His father used to pray for the day the sanctions were lifted and his shop could thrive under open trade.   

Sadly, that day never came.

But his father had still left his mark.  This place had kept their family under a large, sturdy roof.  It had saved locals from making investments that would have thrust them into debt.  It had taught Lance patience and imagination. 

It was in this shop that he’d learned that the craziest, stupidest ideas were sometimes the _best_ ideas.

A worker slid out from under the old Chevy truck beside him, and Lance started. 

He did a double-take when he realized it was _Keith_.

He was covered in grease, and a white bandana kept his hair out of his face.  He wore his fingerless gloves and a gray tank top that showed off his shoulders.  A pair of worker’s overalls were tied off at his hips, the bottoms tucked into Keith’s stupid boots. 

He blinked at Lance, sitting up from the creeper.  “Hey.”

Lance could feel himself spiraling into a very gay crisis.  “Do you know what you’re doing down there, Fonzie?”

Keith grinned.  He fished around in his pocket and tossed Lance the keys. “You tell me.”

 _Ohmyfuckinggod_.

This was not allowed?

Who _told_ him he was allowed to look like that while speaking in that baritone?  Was the universe _testing_ him?

“Why is my family putting all my friends to work?” Lance muttered, dragging his eyes away from Keith’s body to search for his brother. “Marco? Explain yourself!”

The young man appeared out of the back, carrying an old tire over his shoulder.  “Keith volunteered.  And he’s good!  Knows more about these newer models than I do.”

“Newer as in anything _not_ made in the 1950s…” Lance said dryly.

“Yep.”

Lance glanced back at Keith, who shrugged. “My dad owned a Chevy,” he explained. “We used to work on it together a lot…so I thought I’d give this a shot.” 

Lance eyed him skeptically, but he walked around to the driver’s side and stuck the keys in the ignition.

The truck coughed a few times before roaring to life.

“ _Guau_! There she goes,” Marco commended, grinning.  “You sure you want to be a paladin of Voltron, Keith? I could take you on here.  And my job actually _pays_.”

Lance glared at him. “Keith’s not for sale, Marco!  God, you’re just as bad as Mom.”

His brother held up his hands, proclaiming innocence.  He walked out the back door again with a broad smile.

Keith stood, wiping his hands on a greasy towel, and Lance tried not to let his eyes roam over his biceps again.

_Keep your eyes up.  Look at his stupid face.  Just his face._

Just the smudge of soot on his cheek, parallel to the scar on the other side.  Just the trail of sweat on his brow, the dark stray hairs falling over his face.  Just his amused, pretty eyes, taking Lance in.

_Bad plan._

         

 

“What?” Keith asked.  “Am I gross?” He looked down at himself again, scowling at the grease stains.

“The grossest,” Lance confirmed, hoping Keith couldn’t detect the cognitive dissonance picking him apart.  Panicking, he lifted the paper bag—his purpose for being here. “Hungry?”

Keith looked surprised. “Oh, yeah, actually.  Unless…” He looked Lance over. “You didn’t make it, did you?”

Lance slapped his hand to his chest.  “Excuse you? I’m a fantastic cook, you _Neanderthal_.”

Keith raised his brow like he didn’t believe him.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s true!”

“Then how come you never made anything for us when we were in space?”

“Uh one, because I am _lazy_.  Two, because Hunk was our own critically-acclaimed chef?” Lance exclaimed. “Besides.  I don’t know how to cook with food goo or foreign spices.  But I bet my chicken _enchiladas_ would rock your socks off.”

Keith smiled.  “I bet they would.”

Lance’s eyes widened a sliver. He’d been expecting Keith to put him to the challenge.  Not so readily accept his word as truth. 

“Well…I’ll make them for you sometime then,” Lance decided softly.  “If you want.”

For once, he didn’t feel the need to prove anything to Keith. He didn’t need to _impress_ him.  He just wanted to make something he would enjoy.  It was no Ropa Vieja, but Lance liked to think Keith would still appreciate the home-cooked meal.

Keith stared at him, mouth slightly parted, and Lance replayed the words over in his head.

Ah.

_Quiznak._

“You know….like for you, and the team.  All of us. _Everybody_.  A big dinner with _lots_ of people,” Lance rambled.

“Right,” Keith said, his expression already back to its auto-setting—sober disinterest.  He took the bag out of Lance’s hands and moved for the outdoor lunch table.  He nodded for Lance to follow him.

“ _Right_ ,” Lance whispered to himself, wondering how he was _possibly_ going to survive the rest of this trip.

 

* * *

  

Lance was good at being a brother.  He was good at being a son.  He was good at Earth things — playing music, surfing, partying, living life at its fullest.  Those talents went unappreciated in space.  But here, here they thrived. 

Lance was in his element. He was _happy_.

And part of Keith loved seeing him like this. But it also _hurt_.  Because Keith and the others couldn’t make him this way.  Voltron couldn’t give him what he really needed.

And that _stung_.

Keith watched Lance sit on his board in the water and stare up at the sky, his body moving with the waves. 

Keith's favorite thing about Cuba so far was its climate, and the fact that Lance hardly ever wore his shirt.  Keith could admire his slim build and toned abdomen every day.  He tried to memorize the hard planes of his chest, the way his back muscles contracted when he lifted his arms.

After this trip, he’d probably never see Lance shirtless again.

Allura sat beside Lance on her own board, trying to learn to surf as Keith had days prior.  She was pretty good already.  Apparently she’d done a lot of wind-surfing back on Altea as a kid.

Allura said something, and Lance fell onto his back, laughing so hard he was clutching his stomach in pain.  Allura voiced her confusion, which seemed to make Lance laugh even harder.

“Is that look what I think it is?”

_Oh no._

“Shiro, not this again,” Keith complained, having come to expect his brother’s torment regarding Lance.

Shiro hummed, smiling as he sat beside him on the beach.  He was wearing his goddamn sunhat again.  The thing was hideous.   “You’re just so _obvious_ ,” he teased.

“I am _not_. Lance has no idea.”

Shiro looked at him, amused.  “Well yeah.  Have you _met_ Lance?”

Keith glared.  He turned his attention to the white sand, digging his fingers into the soft grains.  Maybe if he ignored him, Shiro would leave him and his unreciprocated feelings alone.

“Look, I know you’re set on keeping these feelings inside.  That’s how you’ve always been,” Shiro began. “But who knows how long this peace will last?  In a few weeks, we’ll be back in space.  We’ll be fighting a war again.  Maybe you should take a risk and tell him how you feel.  Now might be the best time.  The _only_ time.”

Keith huffed bitterly. “Seriously, Shiro?  You’re going to lecture me about taking risks and telling people how I feel when your fiancé is out there and you won’t even _see_ him?”

Just like that, he’d snuffed out the light in Shiro’s eyes.  Burned them black.  “It’s not the same thing.”

Keith narrowed his eyes.  “It is, and you know it.  What’s the worst that could happen, Shiro?”  The man looked away, _pouting_ like a child.  It was rare to see Shiro so irrational, so openly vulnerable.  “You show up, tell him you still love him, and what? He either takes you back or he doesn’t.  But at least you’ll know, right?  You have a _chance_. And if it doesn’t go well, you can go back to Voltron like before. You can _both_ move on.  _I_ don’t have that luxury, Shiro.  If I say something, I have to live with that decision.  I can’t just run away like you.”

Shiro whipped his head around, eyes flaring dangerously.  “I’m not running _away_ , Keith.  I never _did_.  I put the mission first, and Adam didn’t get that." He said it slowly, _firmly,_ almost as if he was trying to convince himself, not Keith. “If I go back to him now, tell him how I feel, and then wind up leaving him again for Voltron—you really think he’s going to forgive me a third time?”

Keith grit his teeth.  “I just want…I want you to be happy, Shiro.  And I think Adam makes you happy.”

Shiro shook his head, locking his hands together over his knees. “What about Lance? Doesn’t he make _you_ happy?”

“Happy.  Confused.  Angry.  Exhausted. Annoyed. Furious…”

Shiro chuckled. “But he makes you _feel_ , right?”

“Yeah. He makes me feel.”  _A lot._

They sat in silence for a few moments, and Keith's eyes sought out Lance again.  The paladin was riding a barrel this time, most likely showing off for Allura, who sat off to the side with a shit-eating grin on her face.  Lance had underestimated the depth of the tube, and it tumbled over him, sending him under the breaking wave.  When he surfaced, he was laughing his ass off and spitting water.

A genuine, boisterous laugh that carried down the beach.

He made Keith feel all right.

He made him _ache_.

“Listen, I know I’m not in the position to give you advice on love. But…before Adam and I got together, I was in the same boat as you.  I didn’t want to jeopardize our partnership by telling him how I felt.  I was terrified of ruining what we had.”

“…So what did you do?” Keith asked.  How had Shiro gone from a state of complete terror to a state of _engagement_?

“I realized that _just_ maybe Adam felt the same way.  And that there was the slightest chance we were dancing in circles around each other.  So I told myself I was going to confess—that way at least I wouldn’t feel stuck.  I’d be moving.  Back or forward, I didn’t even care.  I just wanted to _move_ ,” Shiro said, closing his eyes to the world, as if that would take him back in time. “The problem was that every time I had the perfect opportunity to say something, I choked.  Every time I built up the courage to go through with it, we were interrupted.” Shiro chuckled, shaking his head.  “It ended up coming out when I least expected it.  We were repairing a speeder.  I was on the creeper, working underneath, and Adam was reading me the manual, handing me the tools I needed.  We were in the middle of talking about ion thrusters when I rolled out from under the speeder and flat out told him I loved him.”

“Just like that?” Keith marveled.  

“Yeah. Just like that.  Adam stared down at me in shock, so I rolled back under the speeder where I could hide.”  Shiro laughed, and Keith grinned, trying to picture Black Paladin _Shiro_ cowering beneath a ship.   “He started yelling at me to come out, and I didn’t want to. I was too scared to see the look on his face.  So he got on his knees and reached under the ship to drag me out against my will.  He looked down at me, and he told me I was the biggest idiot he’d ever met.  And then…then we were dating.”

 _Ugh_.

Shiro and his sappy stories.  They were painfully, sweet. Tooth-rotters.

Too fantastical to belong in Keith’s life. 

“Yeah…but was Adam in love with someone else back then?” Keith asked. 

Shiro fixed him with a look.  “Do you really think Lance _is_?”

Keith stared at him, frowning, and he glanced back at the sea, where Lance and Allura continued to laugh at one another.  “No.  But it doesn’t matter what _I_ think, does it?”

 

* * *

  

Keith was waiting for Lance to drive down to Havana for the day.  Apparently Keith was _missing out_ on all the Cuban culture—something Lance hoped to remedy. 

While Lance showered, Keith wandered around the house, looking at old pictures on the walls.  Smirking at Lance’s toothy grin as a little kid.

Apparently, he’d _always_ been a beanpole. 

Keith walked by the old, faded pictures of Lance’s extended family to the large picture frame that featured all the different kids in various stages of their lives. 

Lance and Jessica carrying Diego and Milena right after they’d been brought home from the hospital—Lance’s pure joy at their little faces.  

A young Marco and Mr. McClain holding up a “co-owners” contract in front of the garage.

Luis in his graduation gown—holding a cap that said _I’m just as surprised as you are_.

Lance, about six years old, clothed in a soccer uniform.  Veronica lifting him up as he proudly raised his participation trophy in the air.

Mr. McClain playing a guitar, and all the kids surrounding him on the couch and the floor, listening.  Lance sitting at his feet, just a toddler. 

Keith hated his attachment to this family.  Six days in, and he already felt like he’d known them his whole life.  Like he’d been there to witness Veronica bringing her boyfriend home for the first time—Lance and his siblings’ endless teasing.  Like he’d watched Milena and Diego grow up.  Like he’d been there when Lance’s father passed. 

It scared him how much he cared.

Keith drifted to the dining room, observing the brightly colored fabric draped over the desk, the old sewing machine sitting unused in the corner.  A scrapbook lay open, revealing pictures of different garments and dresses, notes scribbled in the margins.  One picture featured a black biker’s jacket. Leather, with an inner cotton lining. 

“Do you like that one?”

Keith jumped, turning around bashfully.  _Caught snooping, Keith. Nice._

Sandra stood there with a warm smile on her face, and he relaxed.  “Oh. Yeah, I do.”

She hummed, walking over to look at the album with him.  She flipped a few pages, sighing wistfully.

Keith eyed her curiously.  “Lance told me you’re a seamstress?”

She nodded sadly as she ran her fingers over the picture of a wedding dress.  “It was a hard business.  High demand, but difficult to supply,” she said.  “When I was a young woman, the authorities outlawed the sale of imported clothing, so I had to test for my license in front of the Ministry of Labor.”

He felt a grin tug at his lips.  “I take it you passed the exam and _haven’t_ been operating under the black-market all this time?”

She grinned. “I passed.  But raw materials are expensive here, so I mostly tailored old clothes, especially school uniforms and sports jerseys.  A lot of the time I had to take the clothes apart altogether and remake them into something new.” 

She ran her fingers over the last page and a series of remarkable before-and-after shots. Rags to dresses.  Beach towels to tank tops. 

“That’s…incredible.” 

Keith had always admired people who could fix things, who could make something from nothing—or something broken _._ It was why a mechanic position had appealed to him long before he’d ever dreamed of piloting. 

Sandra chuckled, shushing his praise. 

“Do you think you’ll ever pick it up again?” Keith asked carefully, knowing it was a sore topic. 

“Maybe someday,” she confessed. “First I think I have to stitch _myself_ back together...”

Keith nodded understandably.  He knew all about finding himself, about healing as a person.   He wasn’t able to be a proper leader until he'd faced his past.  

Sandra looked him over with a tender softness, and her brown eyes fell to his cheek.  Slowly, she reached out, brushing her thumb over his scar, holding his chin.  He held his breath.

“Space wasn’t easy on you, was it cariño?”

He smiled a little.  “Not always.”

“No,” she agreed, dropping her hand.  “I fear Lance doesn’t share the whole truth with us.”

Keith swallowed at the hurt expression on her face.  “I think he just wants to be here with you…in the present.  He doesn’t want to worry you any more than he already has.”

“I know,” she sighed. “He always tries to protect us.  Just like his father did.”

Keith watched her go back to cleaning, and his chest tightened. The words spilled out before he could stop them.  “Look, I don’t think Lance is going to say anything, but you should know he saved my life—all of our lives—countless times.”

Sandra looked at him with wide eyes, and he bit his lip.   He’d already dug his grave.  Might as well put it to good use.

“He’s an amazing fighter pilot and sniper, and he always keeps a level head, even when we’re faced with an impossible situation.  I couldn’t have asked for a better right hand.”  And he meant it.  Lance had put his jealousy aside to support Keith as the leader.  He’d helped him navigate the responsibility of life-altering decision-making. He'd shared the burden of Voltron and the team’s fate.  He’d been there for Keith when he needed him most.   “I just…you should know he’s a hero.  He acts like he hasn’t done anything for Voltron, for the universe, but he has.  And I…I wanted you to know you have a lot to be proud of him for…”

A slow smile lit Sandra’s face, and she dipped her chin.  “Thank you for sharing that with me, Keith.”  Her brown eyes reflected the warm glow of the room, shining like honey.  “You sound very fond of him.”

Keith heard Lance skipping down the stairs two at a time, singing one of his horrendous pop songs.

He shrugged helplessly. “I am.”

  

* * *

   

The days passed too quickly. 

Lance spent most of his time at the beach.  He’d swim in the morning before breakfast, and then he’d take Diego and Milena to school.  He’d do some house chores just to hang out with his mother.  Then he’d go visit his siblings at their work and eventually return to the beach to hit the waves. 

He took Keith with him most of the time, but sometimes Keith elected to stay and work with Marco at the garage, or he’d go disappear for a while to recharge by himself.  Which was good.  Distance was good.

Even if it didn't _feel_ good.

Because while part of him wanted to avoid Keith and his pretty face at all costs, the other part wanted to spend time with him as much as possible—soak up the moments they had left. 

It was confusing.  And Lance _hated_ being confused.

One thing was certain at least: Lance did _not_ want to repeat the cuddling incident. That catastrophe had activated this whole attraction thing in the first place and sent Lance down a slippery slope.  

So Lance had allowed Keith to use his headphones at night.  The music helped ward off the nightmares without any spooning or touching required.  And it kept Lance from waking up with a _heart attack._

The others seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their stay at the McClain household.

Shiro read a lot or walked the beach with a contemplative look on his face. 

At one point it had come to their attention that the grown man couldn’t cook, so Lance’s mother had taken it upon herself to teach him everything she knew.  At first, Lance worried that his poor leader was ensnared by the woman, but it turned out Shiro actually enjoyed the lessons.  Lance supposed they probably bonded over running a household full of reckless teenagers or something. 

Krolia popped in and out of the house often, and Lance honestly had no idea where she went.  Sometimes he spotted her braiding Milena’s hair.  Once he caught a glimpse of her at a food stall downtown, chatting with the locals in disguise. 

When Allura wasn’t being stolen away by his sisters or hit on by Luis, she was at the beach or the pier, engaging with as many humans as possible to learn the language. 

Lance’s family had fallen in love with her instantly, unsurprisingly, and Lance had thought it would bother him more that he barely saw her around.  But it didn't really. 

He was learning to let go.

And it was getting a lot easier.

Tonight Lance was making his famous enchiladas, and Veronica was helping him chop the toppings, asking him questions about Voltron and the ongoing war, trying to gain a better understanding of it all.  Lance knew she couldn't stand that he knew more about something than she did.

“There’s one thing I still don’t get.”

“What’s that?” Lance asked, dipping his finger into the pan and testing the sauce.  

“When you sent us that message eight months ago, you were pretty angry with Keith.  And it didn’t sound like you were the best of friends.  Now he’s here instead of Hunk?  And you’re sharing a bed?  What changed?”

Lance felt the heat rush to his face.  He stirred the sauce idly.  “Okay, first of all, _someone_ had to share a bed.”

“Yeah, and it could have been Keith and his brother and you and _yours?”_

Lance pursed his lips, refusing to meet her all-knowing gaze. 

She stepped closer, placing her hand on his shoulder.  “Hey.  I’m not trying to tease you, Lance. I’m genuinely curious.  You two seem really close is all…”

Lance sighed.  Leave it to Veronica to be too observant.   “Look, some stuff just happened up there that kind of changed everything.”

She raised a single thin eyebrow.  “Vague.”

Lance turned so his back was to the dining room, and he lowered his voice to a whisper. “You can’t tell anyone else, especially not Mom…but I almost bit it.  That’s why I have the scar.”

She crossed her arms.  “I gathered as much.  Especially since everyone else had near-death experiences, or in Shiro's case, very _real.”_

“Well, Keith was there when it happened, and he kept me alive, and the whole incident just kind of put everything in perspective,” Lance admitted, watching his sister’s face transform into something softer.  “It really messed him up to see me almost die, and he’s been having nightmares about it, so I’m trying to help him with it.  And I’d been really homesick, and he was there for me, so yeah…we’ve grown closer I guess.”

“I see. So you’re friends now.”

Lance snapped his fingers.  “Friends. Yes. Exactly.”

“Friends who blush around each other and stare longingly into each other’s eyes?”

“Y—no.  What’s wrong with you? I don’t—we don’t do that.” Lance paused. “Wait, are you saying _Keith_ does that?”

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to the side. “Would it really be so bad if you were more than what you are?”

Lance swallowed.

Bad? No.  Being with Keith, that wouldn’t be bad.  It would…well…it would be pretty fucking awesome to call the Red Paladin of Voltron his _boyfriend_.  But…

“It’s not like that with us,” he heard himself say.

Veronica scoffed.   “Lance, you’ve been acting like an idiot around the guy.  Blushing and stammering and not-so-subtly checking him out.  Not to mention the fact that you haven’t flirted with any girls yet.  Not _one_.  Even Allura.”

“I…” Huh.  He hadn’t, had he? That was bizarre.

Was he sick? Was he _dying_?

She stared at him like he was a moron.  Then her eyes flicked to the dining room, and she pinched his arm.  “Look at him right now and tell me you don’t feel something.”

Lance grudgingly dragged his eyes to Keith.

The paladin was standing over the dining table, surrounded by Lance’s family.  Lance’s mother was teaching him how to make her famous flour tortillas, cutting boards and ingredients strewn about the table, Milena and Diego being little shits off to the side.  

There was powder on Keith’s nose, and his face was scrunched in concentration.   His arms were strong beneath his loose shirt, hair tied back in a knot of a ponytail. Twilight eyes drowning in sepia.

Keith looked up, as if he could sense Lance’s gaze, and he smiled, warm and bright and easy.

Lance managed a tight smile in return, but his heart was racing.  His blood was on fire.

_Shit._

“Well?” Veronica drawled.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t happening.

This _couldn’t_ be happening.

It was just physical attraction. Right?  Just really, really strong physical attraction.

But when Sandra flicked another dash of white powder at Keith, and he expertly dodged her assault, only to smash his hand in the flour and press it flush against her cheek—his mother “ _oohing_ ” in mock outrage—

Lance knew. 

He had a big fat _crush_ on Keith.

  

* * *

 

 Lance couldn’t stop staring at Keith throughout dinner, studying him, trying to convince himself he was _not_ falling for the paladin. 

When Keith took his first bites of the enchiladas, Lance watched, hoping Keith did something that annoyed him, something that hurt his feelings. Anything except what he _did_ do.

Which was stare down at the food reverently, then at Lance.  Smiling _incredulously_.  

 _Bastard_.

After dinner, Keith had helped him with the dishes, and Lance thought he might catch fire when they brushed arms.  Burst into flames. Turn to ash and blow away.

Later that night, Lance could barely lay next to him on the pull-out without feeling like he was going into cardiac arrest.  Fidgeting.  Flinching.  Stealing looks. 

How had this even happened?

How did he get here?

One second he was admiring Keith’s sleepy face, and the next he was reduced to a stuttering mess?!

This was all _Veronica’s_ fault.

He got up and locked himself in the bathroom, splashing his face with water, trying to convince himself it was just a fluke.  His brain was just _damaged_.   

He’d loved Allura a few weeks ago.  He still had buried feelings for her, didn’t he?  He couldn’t like Keith all of a sudden.  It didn’t work like that.

Yeah, okay, Lance could admit Keith was hot.  He’d established that. 

And yeah, he had a pretty great smile.

And he was brave, and the best fighter Lance knew, and he listened to Lance’s fears and concerns, and he _cared_ about Lance, and his family already loved him…

And his mullet wasn’t _so bad_ …

Lance stuck his head under the faucet.

Shit.

 

* * *

 

Keith stood on the pier, watching the fishermen gather around the sides, the tourists snap pictures in all directions. 

He sipped his mojito, wondering when Lance was going to return with the ice cream—and why the delay. 

Had he stopped to flirt with a stranger?  Had he messed up their orders?  Had he dropped Keith’s on the ground and had to go back and get another one?

Keith had a hunch it was the last one.

“So Keith, you and Lance were rivals huh?” Luis said, leaning against the pier beside him.

“That’s what Lance tells people.”

“You didn’t feel that way?” Jessica asked, brows high on her forehead.

Keith shrugged.  “He’s the one who always instigated things. I just fought back.”

She hummed curiously.  “Like a boy pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.”

Keith choked on the drink.  “What? No.”  They were way off.  “No I really don’t think that’s what it was.  _Is_.  He told me he was just jealous over my piloting skills and Shiro’s attention…” 

The siblings frowned at that.

“Yeah but Lance doesn’t get jealous about that kind of thing,” Luis said.  He lifted a bony shoulder.  “Over a girl, yeah, but over _skill_?  Not really.  He’s competitive by nature, but he never takes it so far as to establish a _rivalry_.  I mean, he never had that kind of relationship with Shiro or the others, did he?”

“No…”

Lance had been annoyingly docile with the others.  Almost like he was throwing it in Keith’s face that they couldn’t—and wouldn’t—be friends.

“Look, Keith, my brother is actually pretty smart when it comes to reading other people’s emotions.  He’s intuitive that way.  But he’s _horrible_ at understanding his own,” Jessica said, raking her dark hair out of her face. “Maybe part of his attitude toward you _was_ jealousy.  But maybe part of it was something else.  Maybe he wanted to impress you because he liked you.  He just didn’t know what to do with those feelings, so he lashed out and made fun of you.”

Were they trying to imply what Keith _thought_ they were trying to imply?  Because there was _no_ _way_.

“I don’t think—“

“I mean you should have seen his video message,” Luis said, grinning from ear to ear.  “He told us all about the team and the lions, but then he spent five minutes straight ranting about you, how you pissed him off and left the team.” He shook his head back and forth, chuckling.  “The guy wouldn’t shut up about you.”

Keith felt his face burn.  He looked between them. “Why are you telling me this?”

They grinned at him knowingly, and Keith wasn’t sure he’d ever felt more _unsettled_.

He wasn’t actually as transparent as Shiro said he was, _was_ he? Keith liked to think he didn’t go around wearing his emotions on his sleeve. 

But if Shiro, Krolia, and now most of Lance’s family had him all figured out…

Maybe he should dial it back?

The last thing he wanted was for Lance to catch on.  They’d finally become close. He didn’t want to spoil that by chasing him away with unreciprocated feelings.

And they _were_ unreciprocated.

…Weren’t they?

Lance appeared from the crowd, carrying three ice cream cones. 

He offered two to his siblings, and then he handed the last one to Keith.

Keith frowned, taking the half-melted cone in his hands.  “This is _chocolate_?”  It was most definitely strawberry.

Lance sighed.  “No. I dropped yours on accident.  But I didn’t have enough money to get another one. So you can have mine.”

Keith grinned slightly.  He’d _called_ it.  “It’s fine, Lance.  Take it. You’re the one who wanted ice cream in the first place.”  He pushed the cone back in his direction.

Lance pursed his lips, shifting his weight to his other foot.  “I mean…we could _share_?  If you’re not a germophobe or anything...”

Keith stared.  Share an ice cream cone?  That seemed a bit…

“Okay,” he said, probably without enough hesitation.   He licked one side of the melting scoop, savoring the taste of strawberry on his tongue against the cool mint of his beverage.  He handed it back to Lance.

Lance looked a little pink, but it could have just been the rosy sunset.  He watched Keith as he took his own bite of the cone, as if waiting for Keith to scrunch his nose in disgust or claim that he didn’t want it anymore. 

But Keith just offered him a timid smile, and Lance smiled back.

 

* * *

  

Lance clutched his chest, falling to the ground. 

“No!” Milena cried, rushing to him with one hand on her head to steady her cardboard crown.  “ _Leandro_!”

Lance snorted, trying to fight a smile as he lay on the bedroom floor, dying. 

Diego laughed evilly, flipping his “druid hoodie” out behind him for dramatic effect.  “Now what will you do?  Your Altean prince is dead.  I have Voltron.  You’re _doomed_.”

“Morbid,” a voice said, and Lance went completely still.

_Oh no._

Keith leaned against the door, his mouth quirking up at the edges. 

“Keith!” Milena cried happily, breaking character for a moment. “Do you want to play with us?”

Keith kept his eyes on Lance, an impish grin on his stupid face.  “I think I’ll just watch and see how this pans out.”

Great. 

Lance was _never_ going to hear the end of this.

Milena turned her gaze back to her brother, glaring.  “It’s not over.  There’s still hope.  True love’s kiss.”

Diego faltered for a second, confused. “But Mil, I _electrocuted_ him with the Quintessence.  It’s not a magic spell.”

“It’s still _magic_.”

Diego threw his arms up as if to say,  _I guess._

Milena fell to her knees beside Lance.  “Don’t worry, Prince Leandro.  I’ll save you.”  She bent down to Lance’s ear.  “Don’t wake up, okay?” she whispered.

Lance closed his peeping eye and nodded obediently.  Whatever. Playing dead was chill. 

He felt a quick peck at the edge of his mouth, and he lay still, wondering where the heck the plot was going now.

“It didn’t work,” Diego said with another dark snicker, and Lance frowned at how well his nephew played his evil persona.  Should he be _worried?_

“That must be because I’m not his true love,” Milena said slowly, as if she’d had an epiphany.  Lance peeked again, watching his niece sadly shake her head.  “I should have known.  It’s Akira.  It’s _always_ been Akira.”

God.  Where did she get these _names_?

She looked up suddenly, her gaze flying to Keith. “ _Akira!_   Is that you?!”

The amused expression on Keith’s face vanished. “What?”

Lance tried to sit up to protest, but Milena shoved him back down with a force that surprised him.   “Quick, Akira. It’s our only hope of saving the universe,” she pleaded, activating her Puppy Dog LookTM.

Both of Lance’s eyes were open now, and he was staring at Keith, who was staring back at him.  Frozen.  “Uh, Milena…” Keith tried, but she turned back to Lance and slammed her ear to his chest.  Gasping. 

“I don’t think he’s breathing!  You have to hurry. Before it’s too late!” she cried, actually willing  _tears_ to her eyes _._  Diego’s face lit up in the corner, like he’d just discovered his sister’s plan.  

Lance rolled his eyes.  What, was his whole family plotting against him now? 

“Milena, Keith isn’t playing, remember?” he muttered.  He was _not_ going to make Keith the bad guy by refusing to play a stupid—

“What do I have to do?” Keith asked.

Lance’s eyes shot wide, and he lifted his head to peer at Keith’s grave expression. 

What…what was he doing?

Milena brightened. “You have to break Diego’s spell.  The only thing that will save Leandro now is true love’s kiss.”

“ _Milena_!” Lance whisper-shouted.  No fucking way was _that_ happening.

“I think that’s where you’re mistaken…princess,” Keith said somberly, kneeling before her.  “I’m afraid I’m not Lan—Leandro’s true love.  It wouldn't work.”

Ohh, nicely played.  Lance gave Keith a thumbs up.  

“Leandro may not be your true love, Akira.  But you're  _his_ ,” she revealed.  “And that means you’re his only chance.  It’s up to _you_.”

Keith glanced over at Lance with a _help_ _me_ expression. 

Dammit.  

Why were these gremlins putting Keith in this position?  Didn’t they realize people weren’t props?  

Maybe Lance should just rise from the dead and make up some bullshit.  Milena would be mad, but not for long.  If he could get her to laugh, she’d cut him some slack…

“Okay.  I’ll try,” Keith decided, and Lance stopped breathing.

Try what?

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

He felt Keith’s footsteps through the floor, and then the paladin was crouching beside Lance.  He wore a mask of calm, and Lance had to give him kudos for his acting skills—Lance was about to _die_ from all the blood rushing to his cheeks.

Keith’s gloved hand slid to the side of Lance’s neck, his thumb resting on his jawline. 

Warm and calloused.

“Uh…Keith?” Lance murmured hesitantly, his heart racing wildly. 

He wasn’t seriously going to do it. 

…Was he?

“For the universe,” Keith told him with a small smirk.  And he leaned down and pressed his lips to Lance’s.

No.

Scratch that.

He pressed his _thumb_ to Lance’s lips and kissed his digit.

A stage kiss.

A _fake_ kiss.

It was chaste, but Keith drew it out, and Lance could hear Milena _screeching,_ unaware of the ruse.  Diego howled in laughter, and Lance could feel Keith’s breath on his skin as he chuckled at their reactions.  Lance smiled too, opening his eyes.

Keith grinned down at him, dark eyes crinkled.  Hair falling over his face. 

Hand still cupping the side of Lance’s face…

Then heavy footfalls came from the stairway, along with an annoyed, feminine voice.  “Hey, you two, Grandma's been calling you forever now. It's time to set the—”

Jessica froze as she gazed upon the state of the room—Keith hovering over Lance in a compromising position, Diego and Milena watching on with red faces.

Lance banged his forehead against Keith’s as he lurched forward.  Keith cursed, falling back on his ass and rubbing his head with a scowl.

“What’s…going on in here?” Jessica asked, staring right at Lance, her lips lifting at the edges.

Lance laughed shakily. “Noth—“

“Akira just _kissed_ Leandro and brought him back from the dead!” Milena disclosed with big, excited eyes.  “It was like a scene from a _princess_ movie.”

The brat was dead to him. 

Lance was going to feed her to the _chickens_.

“Is that so?” Jessica leered, raising her thin eyebrows at the two boys. “I definitely want to hear more about _that_.”

Lance opened his mouth to clarify, but she cut him off, motioning to the kids.  “Seriously though.  You guys can pick this up later.  Mom wants you downstairs, hands washed.”

His niece and nephew groaned, but they didn’t complain.  They pushed past their aunt and thumped down the stairs like little gossip bombs, one question away from detonating.   

Lance was so screwed.

Jessica gave him a pointed look.  “A little more discretion, boys,” she chided, and she shut the door behind her on her way out.  

After a few seconds of sitting there in awkward silence, Lance glanced at Keith, who hid behind his hand, completely red in the face.

His state of mortification made Lance feel much better, and he couldn’t help it.  He _laughed_.

Keith looked at him, his own embarrassed smile pushing through. 

“ _For the universe_?” Lance repeated, grinning. 

“Shut up.  I was trying to play along the best I could.”

Lance felt a fuzzy sensation replace the nervous adrenaline in his chest.   Keith had just let his guard down. He’d let himself be silly for once.  He’d put his ego aside to entertain Lance’s shitty niece and nephew, even at his own expense. 

“Don’t worry,” Lance found himself saying, “I think you were _plenty_ convincing.”

In all honesty, when Keith had leaned down, breath ghosting over Lance’s mouth, he’d been sure Keith would kiss him.  For real.

And Lance hadn’t…hated the idea.

Veronica's words came back to him now, tugging at his chest.  _Would it really be so bad if you were more than what you are?_

“Sorry,” Keith said suddenly, freezing up.

Lance smiled, shaking his head dismissively.   “Dude, stop. Did you see their reactions?  It was hilarious.  Totally worth it.”

Keith’s brow furrowed, and he nodded, looking away. “Yeah. Hilarious.”

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, and Lance decided that maybe having a crush on Keith wasn’t…the end of the world. 

   

* * *

 

Before Lance knew it, the trip was over.

It was the last day before the team had to go back to the Garrison and regroup with the others.  Before Lance had to say goodbye to his friends.

And to Keith.

Lance was beginning to come to terms with the fact that he was falling for the Red Paladin.  That it had less to do with Keith’s pretty face and more to do with his horrible personality. 

A personality that had grown on Lance. 

And after several days, he’d decided he needed to tell Keith exactly what was plaguing him. 

Hopefully, Keith would reject him, tell him he was just going crazy after the whole Allura thing, and snap him out of this trance.  Then Lance could go back to flirting with hot Cuban girls. 

But another part of Lance wanted…well he wasn’t sure what he wanted.  He wanted to explore these feelings.  He wanted to see where this could go.  _If_ it could go anywhere.

Either way, he had to get it off his chest. 

That afternoon, Lance found Keith on the grassy hill, hands in his jean pockets, staring out over the water.  It was picture perfect really.  His slim silhouette in the sunset.  His stupid hair flowing in the wind. 

Lance wanted to remember _that_ image of Keith above all else.   He wanted it imprinted on his brain, so it was the image he recalled every time he thought of him. 

Lance moved to stand beside him, sending Keith a sidelong glance.  “Hey.”

Keith grinned softly.  “Hey.”

They both watched the sky turn a deeper shade of orange as the sun dipped below the horizon.  Lance dared to look at Keith again, and he could see the colors swirling in Keith’s eyes.  His irises matched the ocean right now, its reflection of the dying sun.  It’s yellow and indigo waters.

“Keith?” Lance said nervously.

Keith looked at him fully, inquisitive.

“I…just…” Shit.  What was the plan? He forgot the plan.  “I wanted…”

Keith frowned. “What is it?”

Lance wet his lips.  “I guess…I guess I just…never thanked you.”

Okay. 

That wasn’t what he’d planned to say.  At all.

Keith looked just as confused as Lance felt.  “Thank me for what?”

“A lot of things,” Lance improvised, but it wasn’t hard. He meant everything he said. “Saving my life.  Coming back to Voltron.  Being a good friend.   You’ve really come a long way as a leader, you know.”

Keith stared at him, tilting his head. “Where is this coming from?”

Lance opened his mouth and closed it, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I just felt like saying it.”

Keith looked at him suspiciously, but then he glanced away, and he lifted his shoulders.  “You infuriated me from the beginning.  You always tried to one-up me, and I hated being around you.”

“Wow. I’m _touched_ , Keith.”

“But that changed.  Especially when Shiro went missing.  You helped me lead, Lance.  You were there for me.  You were honest, and you told me when I was being a shitty leader.  But you also cheered me on.  I never thanked you for that.”  He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t know what words to choose.  “So, I guess just…thank you…too.  For everything.”

Lance felt his lips pull into a wide grin, and Keith smiled back at him.

Neither one of them pulled away from that gaze.  And Lance didn’t want to.  He wanted to stop time.  He wanted Keith to stay here with him in this moment, smiling at him like that...

“Keith,” he said again, staring at his friend.  _You can do it. You can say it.  Say it_.  “I think I….”

But as he looked at Keith and his curious gaze, he remembered two very important things. 

The first was that Keith _loved_ someone else.  He was pining for some guy up there in space.  He was in _love_ with him.  By catching feelings, Lance was just digging himself another grave. 

He already fell for Allura.  He didn’t need to fall for another teammate who had his heart set on someone else.  Especially not before he was leaving the team.

And that was the second half of it.

He wasn’t going back to the team.  He couldn’t develop feelings now, less than 24 hours before Keith disappeared.  He couldn’t dump this all on Keith right before they separated.   And even if he reciprocated his feelings, there'd be no point.

Lance on Earth, Keith in space? This was never going to work.

So...it could never _begin_.

“Lance?” Keith whispered, eyes wide in anticipation.

 _Idiot_ , Lance thought sadly.  _You’ve been such an idiot.  How could you let yourself get this invested?_

“I think I…hear my mom yelling for us,” Lance got out numbly. “We should go back in.”

Keith stared at him for a moment longer, and Lance couldn’t help thinking he looked disappointed.  But he nodded anyway, and they wandered back to the house in silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art [here ](http://gtgrandom.tumblr.com/post/177282819999/a-preview-for-the-next-chapter-of-coming-to-terms) (Will open in the same tab)
> 
> Next time: The last night at the McClain household and so much angst omfg


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my senior year of college officially has me dying T_T There's a special place in hell for professors who assign homework the first day...
> 
> FYI I totally deleted my final draft of this chapter by accident and I had to spend all afternoon trying to remember my edits - FML!! I apologize if there's some grammatical mistakes. I'm too sick of this beast of a chapter to proofread rn.
> 
> Also, with college, grad school applications, GRE prep, work, and study abroad shenanigans, I'm not sure what the update schedule will look like now. I think I'll be able to finish this fic before season 8, which is coming out in December, but I'm not making any promises XD. Finding time to write is going to be very difficult this semester! (Luckily I have a pretty thorough outline already in the works).
> 
> Finally, I keep vacillating between an M or T rating for this fic, but I think I'm going to keep the M rating for a future chapter - we all deserve some nice vanilla smut after the shit I'm going to put us through.
> 
> Enjoy! (and suffer)

Keith frowned at Lance, who stood in the bathroom, _preening_.  

“Where are we going again?” he asked, leaning against the side of the door.

“Casa de la Música,” Lance said, flashing him a sinful grin.  “Lots of people. Good music.  _Dancing_. Perfect night on the town.”

“The last time we _went out_ it ended very, very badly."

Lance snorted. “Yeah well this time I won’t rip off a bunch of mobsters.   It’ll be smooth sailing...so long as you don’t flirt with any Galran spies.”  

“So long as you don’t set me _up_ with any, you mean.”

Lance rolled his eyes. "You have nothing to worry about.   _No_ _one_ wants to be subjected to that again.  Trust me.”

Keith frowned.  What was that supposed to mean?

Was Keith's flirting that...off-putting to Lance?

Just when Keith thought Lance was done cleaning his pores or whatever the _fuck_ he'd been doing with that face mask, Lance uncapped a tub of Vaseline and started shuffling through one of his sister’s makeup bags, muttering to himself in Spanish.

“Now what?” Keith complained.  He was pretty sure the entire family was waiting on Lance at this point.

“There it is.”  Lance withdrew two jars from the bag — gold and silver _glitter_.  “Come over here, Keith.  You need some of this.”

Naturally, Keith stepped back. 

Lance pouted, dipping his hand in the Vaseline, smoothing the substance over his fingers. “Come on, it’ll look good.  See?” Lance unscrewed the silver jar and dipped his coated finger in, proceeding to paint his cheekbone silver. 

It _did_ look good.

But Keith wasn’t about to admit that.

“Do whatever you want.  Just don’t touch me with that stuff.”

Lance looked away from the mirror to peer at him.  “Why?”

“Glitter? It never goes away. It’s the herpes of art.”

 _“What?_   Glitter is awesome.”

“So is sex. But the STD still sucks,” Keith pointed out.  “Plus, no matter how many times you wash your clothes or vacuum the floor, the glitter doesn’t go away.”

Lance quirked a brow.  “You sound like you’ve been personally victimized by this stuff, Mullet.”

“Maybe I _have_.” 

Lance grinned at that, and he raised his palm, coated in slimy, silver dust. 

Oh fuck.

“Lance, I’m serious—“

Lance lunged for him, and Keith found himself backed into the corner of the wall and the shower.  He brought his hands up to defend himself, but it was too late.  Lance had slapped a handful of cool glitter to Keith’s face, his gooey fingers sliding down his cheek to his neck as Keith stood there in stunned outrage.

Lance smiled. “See? Look at you, you’re—”

Keith fumed, stumbling toward the counter and out of Lance’s reach.  He grabbed the golden jar of glitter and _emptied_ it over Lance’s entire head, bathing him and the bathroom floor in golden flecks. 

It just backfired though.  The golden sheen turned Lance into a _god_ , and he laughed, shaking the sparkles out of his hair. 

“Fuck you, Keith.”

“You started it.”

Lance beamed at him, teeth white against the tan of his skin, glitter in his lashes, and Keith wondered how someone could be so fucking _gorgeous_.   

He'd always thought Lance was attractive.  He had a swimmer's build made of sharp angles.  A fine jawline.  An upturned nose.  Thin, perfect eyebrows. Dark, loose hair that seemed to embody his winsome personality.  Blue eyes. Skin the color of caramel, peppered with faint freckles.  

Even with their rocky start, Keith had been fully aware of Lance's good looks.   And he'd _hated_ it. 

How could someone so infuriating be so _hot?_   Why did his rival, his thorn in his side, have to wear this look on his face that appeared as if he were mentally undressing everyone around him?

Why, when they argued, had Keith wanted to silence Lance's incessant bickering with a _kiss?_

The questions had plagued him for months.  But then Keith had come to several realizations. 

The first?  Lance was undeniably attractive.  He'd had Pidge confirm it, just to be sure.  

The second was that Keith, just possibly, had some kind of twisted crush on the guy.  Purely sexual. Nothing of substance. As if. Keith _hated_ Lance's personality.  He was a fucking moron, and he was too loud, and obnoxious, and competitive...  

Just a few weeks later Keith discovered that he _definitely_ liked Lance.  All of him.  And he didn't know how to handle it.  

So Keith had gone to Shiro for help, asking him how to end this crush, how to destroy this feeling.  His fourth realization had been that Shiro was a fucking romantic and absolutely good for nothing, and Keith would never go to him for love advice again.  

The fifth was that two years apart had strengthened Keith's feelings, not weakened them. 

The sixth? 

Keith was in love with Lance. Lance and his goddamn finger guns, his beauty regimen, his obliviousness. 

And just now, Keith had a seventh epiphany. 

Lance was _everything_ _._   He was beautiful and compassionate and selfless, and he had too many imperfections to count on two hands, but Keith loved them all.   His imperfections made him _Lance,_ after all.

The boy from Cuba with the shitty haircut was all he'd ever needed.  All he wanted.  

Keith didn't _want_ anyone else. 

And that was the most crippling discovery of all.

Lance grabbed the silver glitter off the counter, an action that brought Keith back to real time.  The bastard's warm smile turned lecherous, and Keith’s eyes widened.

_Shit._

Keith bolted out the door—Lance on his heels, laughing like a lunatic.

 

* * *

 

The club was less crowded than it had been on Portux. Less strange for sure, although still mostly foreign to Keith.  Spanish singers performed on a stage bathed in blue spotlight, pink and orange lights flashing over a dark crowd of dancers.  

The group made their way over to the bar, Veronica at the head, parting the sea of bodies without lifting a finger—her locked jaw and narrowed eyes doing the trick just fine.  

Basically the whole family had come out tonight.  They'd all piled into Marco's van, Allura, Shiro, and Keith crammed in the rear seats and Lance lying crosswise over them, resting his head on Keith's lap like it was perfectly natural to do so.  Keith had had to retrain himself from threading his fingers through Lance's hair.  

Was it as soft as it looked?

With all the products Lance used on it, _probably._

After a particularly jerky stop on the road, in which Lance nearly flew off Keith's lap into the crevice between seats, Keith had draped one arm over Lance's waist to steady him.  A makeshift seat-belt.

For a beat, Lance had gone still beneath his touch, almost like he was holding his breath, and Keith worried he'd somehow overstepped. 

Sure, they'd been a lot closer than this before. They'd fallen asleep in each other's _arms._   But that had been without an audience, in a dark room at an ungodly hour, and Lance had probably been delirious with sleep-deprivation or something. 

Besides, Lance hadn't even _touched_ him since that night.  He'd slept on the edge of the pull-out, practically hanging off the side. 

And Keith didn't really get it, because Lance was a touchy person. He liked hugs.  He liked rubbing shoulders.  He liked being as close to someone as possible. 

Unless that someone was Keith, apparently.

But then Lance's body had gone lax, and he'd muttered something about Keith's legs being too bony for a proper pillow, and Shiro had chuckled, and everything was _fine._

Just like that, he'd whisked away the awkwardness. The uncertainty.  

Keith was glad for Lance's ability to take any situation and turn it on its head. 

It was a talent Keith hadn't recognized as such until recently.  

In front, Marco drove, Sandra rode in the passenger seat, and Veronica, Luis, and Jessica sat in the backseat, teasing one another and picking senseless fights. 

Krolia had requested to stay home and watch the kids with Liz, surprising no one.  Everyone could tell Milena and the blade had become close over the last two weeks. Keith wasn’t sure what they talked about, but he suspected his mother might have always wanted a daughter—that perhaps as a young girl she'd dreamed of braiding her child's hair and buying her dolls. 

She'd told Keith that after she'd left his father she hadn't desired any more children.  And as a member of the Blade, she _couldn't_ have another.  But if his father were still alive, Keith had a hunch he'd have a younger sister by now.

And if she was anything like Milena, Keith didn't think that'd be so bad.

Keith sometimes wondered where Krolia would end up after all this was over.  Would she come home to Earth?  Would she stay with the Blade? 

Would she leave him?

“Drinks?” Veronica asked, and Lance and his siblings cheered, calling out their desired alcohol or cocktails.  Veronica donned a short black dress that flattered her curves, and she'd stowed away her glasses for the night.  The rest of her siblings wore similar classy attire, showing off their smooth, tan legs or cleavage or biceps or just their fucking amazing gene pool in general. 

Keith slid a wad of cash out of his pocket and handed it to Veronica.  “On me.”

Veronica stared at the cash, then at Keith.  _Incredulous._

And maybe just a little furious.

Keith’s father had left him with a sum of money, so when he’d been at the Garrison, he’d asked for his savings.  It had been a bitch trying to get it back, mostly because Keith had been declared dead, and his assets had long since been distributed.

But eventually they’d agreed to return his inheritance, so the last time Keith had been in Havana, he’d exchanged a few hundred dollars for pesos. 

Now he planned on using it.

“Keith, I can’t accept that,” Veronica said, and Lance stepped forward, shaking his head.

“No way, Keith. You’re our guest.  We took _you_ out.”

Keith wasn’t going to argue that this night out would probably require all of Lance's siblings to work overtime for the next two weeks.  But he knew it was true.  They didn’t have the luxury of going out and spending money on tourist attractions.

And that was _all_ they’d been doing for the duration of this trip.

“Think of it as a thank you on the team’s behalf,” Keith insisted. “It’s the least I can do to repay you for all the meals."

_Please take it._

Veronica frowned at him, scrutinizing. 

Keith knew that people with less money in their pocket were less inclined to accept what they might perceive as charity. Keith had _been_ there before.  But he hoped she realized this wasn’t pity money. He just wanted to reciprocate what she and her family had done for him.

Eventually, a slow grin lit her face, and she grudgingly took the cash.  “Fine.  But only the first round.  These idiots will drink you penniless.”

Keith smirked, nodding, and she turned to the bartender to open a tab.

Lance was staring at him when he turned back around, brows pinched together, mouth drawn into a contemplative frown.  He wore a white Guayabera tucked into his jeans.   He’d rolled up the sleeves, the top few buttons undone to reveal a nice patch of skin. 

And he was covered in golden glitter.  

Keith attempted to maintain a neutral, unimpressed expression.  “Why are you making that face?”

Lance's blinked, his face softening. "Sorry."  He watched Keith take the change back from Veronica and stuff it in his pocket, and Keith thought he was going to berate him for it, but instead he just lifted a shoulder and smiled. “Thanks, man.  Really.”

Keith could hear the sincerity in his voice.  The muted respect.  “No problem.”

Lance stared at him for a moment longer, eyes taking him in.  _All_ of him.  And for once?  Keith had absolutely no idea what his expression said.  It was completely guarded. 

Which was unusual for Lance, to say the least.

Then Marco appeared behind Lance and draped his arm over his shoulder, pulling him into the crowd. 

Keith knew that was probably the last he’d see of Lance tonight, and he tried to be happy, to be supportive of Lance choosing to spend this last night with his siblings, but his chest felt _hollow._    After tonight, they’d go back to the Garrison, and their little vacation would end.  They’d go back to being Paladins of Voltron, with no time for leisure.  Lance would lose some of the light in his eyes, and Keith would go back to being stressed.  

The easiness between them might fade, might go back to how it’d been before.  With the arguing.

Keith didn’t want that.

Veronica handed Keith his mojito, and he sat down at the bar, facing the stage and the flood of dancers.  

But just as Lance was about to disappear into the mob, he glanced over his shoulder, searching.

He locked eyes with Keith and shot him a soft, reserved smile.

  

* * *

   

Keith was definitely drunk.

To the point that everything was fucking hilarious.  He was _crying_ from laughter, which…he was pretty sure had never happened before.

He sat on a stool at the bar, watching Lance dance with Jessica.

And it wasn’t that Lance was a bad dancer—far from it.  

You could tell from the way he moved that he'd done this for years, that the steps were muscle memory, the sway of his hips practically an unconscious effort.  He _breathed_ music, and this all came naturally to him.

But he wasn't trying to be professional about it.  At all.

And it was hilarious.

Lance exaggerated his movements and sang aloud at the songs, uncaring, unabashed.  Adding in extra, ridiculous steps.  Trying desperately to embarrass his sisters. 

Completely _wasted_. 

His brothers were laughing and dancing along, encouraging him.  His sisters rolled their eyes but smiled lovingly at his antics. 

At one point, Sandra pulled Shiro onto the dance floor, attempting to teach him the cha cha, and Keith actually thought he was going to die from his laughing fit.

Shiro had no clue how to move to the music, least of all with Lance’s mother.  He kept looking to Keith to save him, but Keith could hardly see from the tears in his eyes.

Allura was—to everyone’s shock—a total lightweight, and she’d let go of her reservations a long time ago, dancing with a large group of girls and picking up on the movements rather fast.  Every time a man tried to enter her space, Veronica just glared at him and he retreated into the dark.

Luis made fun of Marco for dancing like a dad, and Marco reminded him he _was_ one.

Jessica started dancing with a young man a little too sensually, and Lance pulled her away from him, only to take her place.  She was laughing too hard to be pissed about it.

Keith tried not to feel too jealous. 

Two hours into the night, Lance made his way over to the bar again, stretching past Keith to get to his drink. He bent close, grinning.  “You having fun?”

Keith could smell the fruity vodka on his tongue, and he leaned forward so Lance could hear him over the music.  “Surprisingly? Yeah.”

Lance's face lit up. He tilted his head at the dance floor.  “You wanna dance with me?”

Keith felt his heart leap into his throat, and he pulled back to stare at Lance and the deadass expression on his face.   “I…can’t.”

Lance knew that. He knew the last place Keith wanted to be was in the middle of the crowd under all those eyes.  That was like...mountain ranges out of his comfort zone.  Even if he _was_  drunk. 

Lance made a pouting face. “One song.  You don’t even have to come over to the group. We can do it right here.  You don’t even have to get up!”

Keith felt his lips pull up at the edges. "Lance...I'm sitting on a stool."

"Then _I'll_ dance. You just watch."

That...was literally what Keith had been doing all night.  But whatever. 

He was just glad to have Lance's attention.

The band on stage launched into the next cover, and Lance bit his lip to rein in the drunken smile spreading across his face.   He stepped back from Keith, nodding his head to the beat, and then he  _dropped._

As he rose, he held his hands out in front of him, swaying to the music.  Mouthing all the words, a grin tugging at his lips the whole time.

Keith snorted, and Lance smiled up at him, continuing to dance for him.  _Just_ for him.

Keith couldn't understand how such a klutz could move his feet like that.  Lance was always knocking things over—or _Voltron._   But now Keith knew he could surf, and dance, and fight with a fucking broadsword.   

Lance just kept on surprising him.

Lance twisted, looking down at his feet as he shuffled side to side, fluid and lithe.  Then he crouched, holding his knees as his torso swerved to the left and back up—keeping eye contact with Keith as he shook his _ass_.

Keith burst into laughter.

Lance danced around the stool, completely unfazed by Keith’s lack of participation, happy to put on a show.   He mouthed the lyrics to Keith, perfectly in sync, moving his shoulders and hips in tempo, shimmying like an idiot—but somehow pulling it off.   

He leaned forward, locking eyes with Keith, the dark blue glowing in the neon lights.

Keith knew this was just how  _Lance_ operated _,_  but he couldn’t help feeling like Lance was flirting when he looked at him like that, when he continued to shake his body side to side with that signature grin he used on so many girls.

It _did_ things to Keith. 

Lance danced around in a circle again, disappearing behind him, and then Keith felt the stool fly out from under him.

He yelped as he fell backward, but strong hands caught him under the armpits, and Lance smirked down at him, holding him steady.

 _Bitch_.

Snickering, Lance pulled him to his feet, snatching Keith’s wrist and twirling him around so they were face to face.  He took Keith's other hand in his palm, and he started to _move_.

What....

“What are you... _Lance_.”

Keith's warning was drowned by the music.

Lance thrust his arm forward and Keith’s back so far that he was practically dipping him.  Then he yanked him close, laughing at the way Keith gripped onto him for dear life.  It was like some sloppy, comical version of the salsa, and Keith knew he was glaring threateningly, but he couldn’t help feeling kind of…happy…under the annoyance and humiliation.

Because Lance wasn’t making fun of him.

He was…making him _have_ fun.

Lance was here.  Taking time out of his night to cheer Keith up.  To spend a little time with him, even just for the length of a song. 

It meant that Keith was sitting somewhere in the back of Lance’s mind. 

And that…felt _good_.

Lance twirled him around by the hand and the waist, dragging him along to his own steps, grinding up against Keith and causing him to blush furiously.   Keith was dizzy, and he wasn't sure if it was the spinning, the alcohol, or the fact that he was dancing with _Lance._

Lance spun Keith back around and plopped him onto his stool just as the song ended.  He shot him a wicked smile before he vanished back into the crowd.  

Keith sat there, panting and flustered and embarrassed. 

Luckily, no one but the bartender appeared to have seen the display, and he merely chuckled, shaking his head.  

Keith grabbed his cocktail from the counter, and he felt his mouth pull into a smile as he drank.

 

* * *

 

The group made it back home later than they’d anticipated, creeping quietly to their respective sleeping places, shushing each other drunkenly, giggling.  Sandra was _gone,_  and Keith couldn't help his titters as the respectable woman  _crawled_  up the stairs, cursing in Spanish when she grew tired and simply collapsed halfway.  Luis fell to the floor at that, laughing hysterically, gasping for air.

Even Veronica was dying, covering her face with her hands.

It took a while, but eventually everyone made it safely up the staircase, and Keith and Lance collapsed on the pull-out in exhaustion.

It squeaked loudly under their weight, and they laughed. 

Keith couldn’t stop _smiling_.  God, was his face okay? 

He couldn’t feel his face.

Lance mumbled something and proceeded to strip off his shirt, tossing it aside. 

Keith stared at Lance's chest for a moment too long, the planes of his chest, the hip bones protruding from his jeans.   He tore his gaze away and lay down on his side, blushing. 

Everything was soft.  Blurry.  Safe and warm. This whole place was that way.  These people.

He really liked these people.  

He might have even loved them.

“I wish I had your family,” Keith blurted.  _Mindlessly_.

Lance lay down beside him, tucking his elbow beneath his head, staring back at Keith. “Then they can be yours.”

Their knees bumped.  “…What?”

 “Consider them your _family_.”

Keith didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, and he squinted in confusion.

Lance leaned forward.  “ _Family_.  Come over on Christmas and Thanksgiving.  Bring Shiro and your mom.  Call.  Visit when you can.  I’ll share them with you.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Lance,” Keith told him, his voice tight and constrained.  It was too much, the notion of finally having a home he belonged to back on Earth, a group of people who could love him beyond Voltron's inner circle.  You couldn’t just _give_  something like that to someone.  Could you?

“Yes, it _is..._ it _is_ how it works,” Lance slurred, and Keith felt his warm breath fan against his cheek.  He smelled like citrus, alcohol, and vanilla body wash.   

Lance reached toward Keith suddenly, brushing his knuckles over his cheek. 

Keith’s breath hitched, and Lance pulled back, smiling apologetically.  “You had a smudge of glitter on your face still.”  He turned his hand to reveal the streak of silver across his fingers.

Keith studied him, confused, entranced.   He lifted his own hand to Lance’s glitter-soiled face, and Lance’s eyes followed his movements curiously.

Keith traced his fingers over the golden sheen of Lance’s jaw, down to his mouth.  He drew his thumb over Lance’s lips, wiping the glitter away there, lingering.  He dared to meet Lance’s eyes in that moment, and he wished he hadn’t. 

They were full of _everything_.

Fondness.  Anticipation.

 _Want_.

Keith stiffened.  Lance had never looked at him like _that_. 

But even in his drunken state, Keith could identify that look—he knew he wore the same exact expression. 

Was this...was this the moment? 

Was this the time to _say_ it?  

But Lance didn’t wait for him to decide.  He ducked forward, kissing the side of Keith’s thumb, nuzzling into his gloved hand.  Closing his eyes.

Keith couldn’t breathe. His chest was too tight. His heart was racing too fast—pulse thundering in his ears.

Was this real?

_Please let this be real._

Lance rose then, splaying one hand on the mattress pad next to Keith’s head, the other settling over his chest, right above his sternum.

He hovered over him, dark eyes hooded, features shadowed by the short bangs that fell around his face.  Keith could feel his hot palm through his shirt, the warmth seeping into his skin, turning his blood molten.  His heart was pumping wildly, and he was sure Lance could feel it.

Lance’s bare skin glowed silver in the moonlight, and Keith wanted to run his hands over his chest, over his shoulders and down.  He wanted to kiss the freckles on the bridge between neck and shoulder. Taste Lance’s skin, the scented body wash he used, the _ocean_ …

Lance started leaning down, and Keith's mouth parted in awe. 

Was he...trying to _kiss_ him?

Lance paused, his eyes flitting between Keith's, hesitant, unsure, _afraid._

His uncertainty tore Keith to pieces. 

With a courage he didn't know he possessed, Keith lifted his hand and cupped the side of Lance's neck, urging him forward.  His gaze dipped to Lance's mouth to convey what he wanted, and the signal gave Lance the confidence to continue.  

Lance released a relieved, shaky breath and bent down, closer, _closer._    Keith closed his eyes. 

He could feel Lance's breath on his lips, and his heart _kicked_ in anticipation—

Then something crashed in the kitchen, clattering on the floor, spinning round, and round, and round.

_Fuck._

Keith and Lance jumped apart, hurdling away from each other and off opposite sides of the bed.  They landed on the tiled floor with painful thuds.

_Holy shit._

Keith was pretty certain his heart had actually stopped beating there for a second.  

Jessica stood in the dining room in an oversized shirt that nearly hit her knees.  She winced, holding out her hands apologetically.  “Sorry…I was…just getting a glass of water….” 

Awkwardly, she retrieved and filled the cup, the sound of the kitchen sink piercing the deafening silence.  

Keith kept his gaze rooted to the dining room, terrified of the boy in his peripheral. 

Lance had just tried to kiss Keith. 

He'd tried to kiss him. 

On the face. 

On the lips. 

And Keith had encouraged him.

.

What the _fuck._

.

Jessica turned off the faucet, and she walked past them with her hand over her eyes. “Okay.  Carry on!”

She disappeared up the stairs, and Keith didn’t know if he should laugh or cry.

The two boys sat completely still, and a long stretch of rigid silence passed between them.   It was too long.  

Keith waited for Lance to do his thing and whisk away the tension.  Cure the awkwardness with some demeaning joke.  

But Lance didn't speak.

He just slumped back onto the mattress with his back to Keith.  Too far away.

He didn’t breathe a word, and Keith didn’t know what to say or think or do.   For a moment, he just stared at Lance's tense shoulders, his dark head of hair. _Desolate._

But the dismissal was clear. 

The underlying message even more so. 

Slowly, Keith lay back down, clutching tight to the blanket, staring at the ceiling.

For the first time in Varadero, Keith was cold to the _bone._  

 

* * *

 

Keith spent the morning hungover and grumpy, trying his best to scrape the remaining silver flecks off his skin.  Fucking _glitter._

Luckily everyone else looked like shit too.  Especially Shiro, which Keith found pretty hilarious simply because a disheveled and disgruntled Shiro was a rare and beautiful thing.

Liz had prepared coffee for the crew, handing out one mug after the other sympathetically.  She'd also banned the kids from the dining room with their high voices and painfully frequent questions.  

 _An angel_ , Keith thought, as he sipped on the coffee. _A real life angel._  

One by one, the others crept down the stairs with the face of death, and the early risers applauded them for their accomplishment.  Veronica, Shiro, and Marco cooked breakfast, insisting that the food would make everyone feel better, even though Allura claimed that the thought of eggs alone made her want to eject herself into space, and Keith couldn't agree more. 

Later, when the rest of the paladins had assembled downstairs with their bags and souvenirs, Keith started to panic—he hadn’t seen Lance all morning.

Had Lance regretted last night, and now he was avoiding Keith? Had he been acting on drunken impulses alone?

Did he even _remember_ it? 

Ten minutes later, the paladin slid through the back door, hair wet and dripping.  He was in his swim trunks.  Late, as always. 

He stopped short when he saw the team packed and ready.  Slowly, _grudgingly,_ his gaze slid to Keith. 

Keith only caught a flash of pain and remorse in Lance's eyes before they darted away.  

Well. 

That answered that.

“Lance, why aren’t you dressed yet? I summoned Red a few minutes ago,” Keith said, with maybe a little too much venom. “Are you even packed?”

“I’m not...I'm not going with you,” Lance said quietly, closing the door shut behind him, eyes on the floor. 

Every conversation died, and every head turned—confused, curious. 

Except Sandra.  She continued cleaning the kitchen, undeterred.   

Keith’s face contorted, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “ _What_?”

Did Lance expect them to let him stay here for another week while the rest of them went to work on the stupid castle?  That hardly seemed fair. 

Shiro sighed, lifting his palms.  “Lance, we can’t stay here any longer. I’m sorry, but as much as I hate it, we have to go back to the Garrison.”

“ _You_ have to go back,” Lance corrected, his thin brows lifting as he looked upon them.  He stood with his back to the wall, holding his wrist. “But…this is where my road ends.”

The team stared at him, bewildered.   

Keith saw Sandra make a hand movement out of the corner of his eye, and the family trickled out of the dining room, leaving the team alone.

What did he mean, _ends_?

Keith’s voice dropped dangerously. “What are you _talking_ about?”

Lance looked down, frowning, as if he were trying to stitch together a proper sentence.

Only Krolia seemed to realize what was happening.  She folded her arms over her chest, leaning back against the counter. “He’s leaving the team.”

Keith waited for Lance's denial, but the paladin just stared at the floor.

Allura inhaled sharply. “Is that true, Lance?  You want to leave Voltron?”

Lance chewed his lip, and he dropped his shoulders.  “Yeah.  I do.”

For a second no one said anything.  They were all too stunned to process it.

Lance wanted to _leave_ the team?

What, he wanted to stay _here_? In Cuba?

He’d voiced similar thoughts in the past, but…he’d never brought it up again.  Keith had thought they’d _settled_ this.

After the initial shock of the admission, frustration boiled in Keith’s blood. He threw his hands up.  “How can you say that? You’re a _paladin_ of Voltron.  You can't just _quit._   We can’t win this war without you.”

“You can.  You, Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, and Allura.  Five Paladins. Five lions.”

“Lance—“

“Don’t, Keith. We all know this is what has to happen.  You _know_ this is the best option.”

Keith shook his head back and forth—they’d been through this already.  “That’s what this is about?  Having too many paladins?  If that’s the issue, I can just go back to the Blade—”

“No. You _can’t_ ,” Lance growled, surprising everyone with his vehemence. “Voltron needs you.  You have to go back, and you know it. You _promised_.”   Keith stared at him, but Lance threw their gaze away, looking over the rest of the team.  He smiled sadly. “Besides. Voltron is your home.  But this? This is _mine_.”

Keith flinched.

It felt like he’d just taken a knife to the chest.

“No. This isn’t right, Lance,” Shiro decided, holding up his hands and walking into the center of their circle.  “ _I’ll_ retire.  Allura and I have been discussing it.  Keith is ready to lead.  And I have responsibilities here I’ve been avoiding for too long.”

Keith frowned at that, taken off guard.  By responsibilities he must have meant Adam.

And while Keith knew Shiro had been hoping to reconnect with his ex, he'd had no idea he was also considering _quitting._    

When had he planned on telling _Keith_ that?

Why was Keith being kept in the dark?

Lance rolled his eyes. “You’re the Black Paladin, Shiro. And we just got you _back_.  Forget it. The Coalition can’t win without you.” 

“I can step down,” Allura offered, her eyes soft and sincere.  “I’m the one who took Blue away from you in the first place.  There’s no need for you to _leave_ , Lance.”

Lance sighed and shook his head.  “Guys.  I’m not volunteering because I’m taking one for the team. I’m leaving because it’s the logical choice.  Because it’s…it’s what I _want_.”

At that, Keith felt the panic swell in his chest.  This wasn’t just Lance’s insecurities talking.  This wasn’t one of his sacrificial whims.  This was the opposite.  This was Lance being _selfish_.

“You’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?” Shiro realized.  “You knew before we even touched the ground.”

Lance nodded. “I’ve thought this through.  A lot.”

Keith swallowed.  

Lance had been deliberating on this for who knows how long.  And he hadn't _once_ confided in Keith.

Allura motioned to the backyard, as if it represented the Garrison and space and everything he was leaving behind. “You could still come back with us. You could still be a part of the team.  The same way Coran and—“

“Allura,” Lance said softly, _gently._ “I’m staying with my family here in Varadero.  I’m _sorry_.  But I’ve made my decision.” He rubbed his wrist, his dark eyes wilting.  “I wanted to tell you all earlier, but I was worried you wouldn’t understand.  And I didn’t want to ruin your vacation…”

 Keith scoffed.

“You already said goodbye to the others, didn’t you?” Shiro deduced, and Keith suddenly remembered the day they'd left the Garrison and Lance's tears.

Lance nodded, grinning feebly. "Pidge didn't take it very well."

A cold weight sank in Keith's stomach.  

This was real.  Lance had already said goodbye to Pidge and Hunk. 

Lance was really going to leave him— _them_.

After _everything_.

“I’m sorry, guys.  But we all know this is the right decision.  I’m just not… _essential_ …to Voltron the way the rest of you are,” Lance said. 

Allura shook her head.  “Lance, how could you think—“

“I’m not saying it for pity points,” Lance cut in, closing his eyes.  “It’s true.  You each have a role. Your lions each chose you for a reason. I’m just…I’m a substitute.”

Keith was breaking, his gut twisting and clawing at itself.  “Lance…you can’t leave.  You say you’re not essential, but you _are_.”

“How?” Lance countered fiercely, but there wasn’t any anger in his words. It was a genuine question. A _plea_. “You and Shiro are both the best pilots and fighters on the team.  You’re already family.  Hunk and Pidge are the engineers and hackers, and Coran and Allura tackle literally everything else.  I have nothing to offer the group.  I never did.”

“That’s not true, Lance,” Shiro insisted. 

“Then what’s my role, Shiro?” Lance asked tiredly, as if he'd had this discussion a thousand times before.   “What do I bring to the team that the rest of you can’t?”

There was a horrible pause as the team stopped to _think,_ and Keith watched his friends open their mouths—desperate—only to falter. 

“You’re… _Lance_ ,” Keith pitched hurriedly, frustrated. “You’re whatever the team needs you to be.  You hold us all together.”

“He’s right,” Shiro jumped in.  “You diffuse the tension when we’re all too serious.   You’re reasonable when we can’t see reason.  Not to mention you’re one hell of a shot.”

“Exactly! And when any of us are feeling down, _you’re_ the one who brings the milkshakes and the video games,” Allura added, a small, pleading smile on her face.    

But nothing could convince Lance, Keith realized.  He’d made up his mind long before this. 

This entire trip had been a _façade._

Lance had brought Keith into his home, into his life, knowing full well he was going to shut him out and lock the doors a few weeks later. 

“That’s not a role, Allura.  That’s just a good friend,” Lance reasoned, smirking a little.  He lifted a shoulder. “The truth is that Voltron doesn’t need me.  But my _family_ does.”

Keith shook his head again.  _No_.

This wasn’t _happening_.

He wasn’t losing Lance. 

Not yet.

Not _now_.

Not like _this_ , with this bitter taste in his mouth.

“This is crazy, Lance.  I’m not letting you do this,” he said firmly. “If you stay, _I_ stay.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “You promised you wouldn’t leave the team.”

“And _you’re_ part of the team!”

“Not anymore.”

Keith was drowning.  “Lance, what the hell are you even saying—”

“Keith, enough,” Shiro said calmly, composed.  Like  _always_.  “You chose to leave once, and there was no convincing you otherwise.  We let you make your own decision, and Lance deserves the same sentiment.  He has to _want_ to be a part of Voltron—he can’t be forced.”

Keith stared at Shiro, the implications of his judgement hitting him in the chest, knocking him off kilter. 

He was letting Lance _go_.

Their mentor sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  He looked up, saddened.  “Lance, I hope you change your mind before we take off again.  You have a week to think on it.  But this is your choice, and we’ll respect it.  When you’re ready to come back just say the word.  I’ll tag you out when that time comes.”

Lance smiled gratefully.  “Thank you, Shiro.”

Keith turned on his heels and stalked away, _bleeding_.

 

* * *

  

Krolia gripped Lance’s forearm. “I hope we meet again.  Perhaps under peaceful skies.”

Lance followed her gaze up to the blue space above them and back down.  “I’d like that.”

And he really would.

Allura was crying.  She held on tight when Lance stepped into her embrace. “I don’t know how the team will survive without you, Lance.”

“They’ll survive just fine.  They’ve got _you_ , don’t they?”

She sniffled, pulling away reluctantly.  "You'll be sure to message us, won't you?"

"Of course I will," Lance said, wiping a tear from her cheek.  She offered him a sad, watery smile. 

The mice gathered at his feet.  He was still kind of angry at them for outing his feelings, but he bent down and scratched their heads anyway. “See you guys.”

Shiro hugged him—a hug that reminded Lance a lot of his father’s old hugs.  He held Lance at arm’s length, a grim smile on his face.  “You’ve grown a lot since I’ve met you, Lance.   You really stepped up.  I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Shiro.  I’ll um...I'll miss you.”

Lance didn't know why that was so hard to say—he'd miss Shiro  _terribly._   He supposed he wasn't used to being emotional around his team leader.  He'd always tried to hide his vulnerability from Shiro. His weakness. 

He'd always tried to be strong like Keith. Unaffected, like Keith.  

It wasn't until the whole clone incident that Lance realized Shiro was just as vulnerable as the rest of them. 

“We’ll see each other again soon.  I know it," Shiro told him.

Lance wasn’t so sure, but he nodded dutifully.  “Um…tell Keith…tell him I’ll miss his stupid face too?”

Shiro’s face rippled with dismay, and he glared up at the Red Lion in disapproval.  Lance pretended not to care that Keith was already up there, refusing him a goodbye. 

But he did.  

Part of him had hoped their last interaction could at least end on a high note.  After they’d come so far, Lance hated for all that trust and development to be scrapped.

But Keith didn’t come down, and the others passed Lance pitiful looks.  

“It’s fine. I didn’t expect a sentimental goodbye from _Keith_ ,” Lance joked, but it fell flat. 

When the team had finished saying goodbye to his family, Lance fashioned a proper smile, a confidence he didn’t possess, and he sent them off.  He stood with his family as the team boarded Red, Milena and Diego _oohing_ and _awing._   His brothers and sisters stared at the lion in amazement, and Marco was practically _drooling._  

Lance waved at Red, feeling a cold pain between his ribs not unlike Evak’s sword.  Slicing him open. 

Leaving him numb and half-alive.

 _Sorry, buddy_.

He felt a subtle wave of sadness wash over him, and he knew it belonged to the lion.  The creature who had accepted him when no one else would. 

 _Take care of Keith for me,_ Lance pleaded.   _The dumbass needs someone looking out for him._

Red sent him a pulse of assurance, and Lance released a soft chuckle.

He waited for the lion to take off, but Red remained planted on the ground.

Lance wondered what was taking Keith so long. They both knew the lion respected Keith enough to accept his command.  So what dramatics was Keith pulling this time?

God knows it would only take a few minutes before some tourist noticed the giant fucking robot in their backyard and broke the Internet with one tweet.  And Lance did not want to deal with the repercussions of _that._  

They needed to blast off _asap._

But then Red bent down again and opened his mouth, spitting up a small, angry figure.

Keith stood there, arms crossed, glaring daggers that Lance could feel all the way from his porch steps.

Lance sighed, realizing that the paladin was waiting for him. 

And he didn’t look happy.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he met the Galran at the foot of the lion, watching him stiffly descend the platform.

“What,” Lance drawled bitterly, “decided you couldn’t leave without—”

Keith fisted the front of his shirt and yanked him forward.

Lance thought Keith was going to pummel him into the ground, beat him bloody.  Curse and spit and scream.

Instead, he smashed their lips together.

.

Holy _shit._

.

Lance's brain short-circuited.   

Lips.

 _Keith’s_ lips.

On _his._

Angry, firm, and stubborn and so characteristically _Keith_ that Lance could hardly stand it.

That was _Keith's_ face pressed up against his, eyes pinched shut.  _Keith's_ fiercely furrowed brow.  _Keith's_ flushed cheeks.

Keith was _kissing_ him.

Lance's eyes fluttered close, and he leaned forward, pliant under Keith's mouth.  

The wind tossed their hair around their faces, and Keith tugged him closer, slotting their lips together for a better fit.  

Lance sighed into the kiss, heart in his throat.  Soul on fire.

He reached for Keith, seeking purchase, but the paladin shoved him back too soon, glaring at him.  His blue-gray eyes were raging storms, seconds from breaking.

Keith said nothing as he turned around and walked away.  Never once looking back. 

 

     

 

    

 

* * *

 

Later, Lance lay on the couch, running his fingers over his lips, his stomach tingling at the memory.

Had that actually happened?

It felt so surreal now.

Had Keith actually descended those stairs and kissed Lance?  On the mouth? In front of his teammates and his family? In front of Krolia and Lance’s own mother?

And had Lance really kissed him back?  Reached out to hold him, only for Keith to push him away?

Lance hadn’t seen that coming.  He’d been completely _blindsided_. 

And now?  Now he didn’t know what to think.  

Did Keith _like_ him like that? Did he like him at _all_?  Was it obvious?  It didn't feel obvious.

Keith was supposed to be in love with some other dude. So what the hell had that been about?  What had their drunken interaction been last night?  What had it meant?

And why had the kiss felt so… _perfect_?

Lance rolled, shoving his face into the pillow and groaning.

He’d been perfectly ready to live out his life in Cuba, meet a nice girl, fall in love, get married, and _die._

What the hell was he supposed to do now?  Knowing his—knowing _Keith_ was out there with possible feelings toward him, risking his life and participating in his typical suicidal shit?  

At least when Lance had been a part of Voltron, he could try and dissuade Keith from pulling stupid stunts.  It didn’t usually work, but it gave him some peace of mind.  

Now…now Lance might never even _see_ him again.

And the thought of losing Keith burned like acid in his chest.  Dug into his heart like dull blades.

Lance’s gaze trailed from the ceiling to the strip of color in his peripheral—a red and white jacket sitting on one of the armchairs, neatly folded. 

Lance sat up, feeling his eyes water at the sight of the familiar material.  He crawled over to the edge of the couch, lifting the jacket off the side of the chair and gathering it into his lap.

_Dammit, Keith..._

Despite how angry Keith had been with him, he’d still left him one of his only personal belongings.  One of the only things that distinctly screamed his name.

And he’d left it for _Lance._   As a token, as a way to remember him, as a nod to the agreement they’d once made. 

As a _parting_ _gift_.

 

* * *

 

No one had said anything after Keith’s episode.

Shiro gave him a sidelong look that he couldn’t read. And his mother hadn’t acted any different than before, although Keith was sure he’d get a proper talking to later—probably some anecdote about leaving his father and him behind.

Allura was pink in the face, and she looked like she wanted to say something, but she held her tongue.

Thank fuck.

“Lance decided to stay behind, then?” Coran said when they touched ground, shoulders sagging. “I tried to talk him out of it.”

“We _all_ did,” Shiro said, and Keith scowled. 

_Not nearly hard enough._

_"_ Well, he's got a week to change his mind," Shiro added, glancing at Keith encouragingly.  "Maybe he'll come around."

Keith abandoned his gaze and turned on his heels.   "He _won't."_  

He felt Shiro's eyes on his back as he walked away. His concern. His sympathy.

Keith didn't want it.

He just...he needed space. 

He needed time to think and breathe and break on his own, without an audience.   So he retired to his assigned bedroom and slammed the door, throwing his travel bag onto the bottom bunk. 

He stared at the small, prison-like window, feeling the pressure build in his chest, behind his eyes.

He bit his lip and kicked the foot of the bed.   _What a fucking mess._

Keith had figured he would probably never see Lance again.  Because _his_ destiny was outer space, and Lance's…well, Lance was with his family, as he’d said.

His _real_ family.

A kiss had been Keith’s impulsive, last-ditch effort to change his mind.  To give Lance a reason to come back, even if the reason was  _him._   Even if the reason was shallow and selfish and _ridiculous._

But the confession wouldn’t be enough. 

 _Keith_ wouldn’t be enough. 

He’d _never_ been enough.

Keith collapsed on the bed, curling his hands into the sheets, trying to forget the look on Lance's face after the kiss.

The guy had looked at him like he’d ripped out his intestines. 

Confused.

Stunned. 

 _Traumatized._  

Keith felt his eyes prickle, and he jabbed his thumbs into his eyes to block the swelling tide.  

_Fuck._

He’d never anticipated this ending.

When Keith saw Lance with his family, happy and carefree and _alive_ again, Keith had thought: _this is what I want_.  A family.  A family with Shiro and Pidge and Hunk and Allura and Coran and his mom.

And Lance.          

And the McClains.

That domesticity had gripped at him and _begged._

And Keith had never thought he’d wanted something so badly. 

But then Lance had decided to stay behind because he thought he didn’t have a place on this team.  Because he thought he had no contribution to Voltron.  No function. No role.

And while Lance might not have had incredible fighting skills or a genius IQ, he had everything Voltron needed. 

Humor.  Heart.  Youthfulness.  Insight.   

He was the middleman.  A keystone.

He was Keith's right hand _._  

And now he was _gone_.

Keith glared at the duffel bag, and he sat up, figuring he might as well unpack it before tomorrow came and he was too afraid to touch the thing—to unearth the memories it contained.  

But when he unzipped the bag, he stilled, his hand hovering over the slit.

Sitting atop his clothes was a familiar set of headphones and an old iPod.

Lance’s iPod.

Keith looked up at the metal plating of the bunk bed, desperate to keep the tears in, throat swelling painfully. 

Lance had left him with his music, knowing Keith had come to rely on the songs for sleep.  Knowing Keith wouldn’t have _Lance_ there to fight off the nightmares anymore.

The thoughtfulness _stung._

Breaking, Keith slid the headphones over his ears and pressed play, leaning back against the wall.

Queen’s _It’s a Hard Life_ started playing, and Keith released a huff of laughter that came out a little choked, a little pained.

The notes started pouring out, and Keith remembered Lance mouthing the lyrics one day in Havana, acting out one of Freddie's performances, serenading their friends and random strangers.  He'd been way too good at it.

Keith closed his eyes, clutching tightly to the front of his shirt.

And he _cried._  

  

* * *

 

  Three Earth Years Later.

 

* * *

 

Lance had just finished surfing lessons.  The tourist couple waved goodbye, and he saluted them with an easy grin.  They were his last customers of the day, and they'd left him with a hefty tip.  

Well. Hefty for _Cuba._

But money was money, and he needed every last cent if he wanted to pay for his classes. 

Lance slung his pack over his shoulder, glancing back at the sea one more time. 

He used to love that glittering horizon.  But now the sun’s reflection on the water reminded him of space and a trillion flickering stars.

And he hated it. 

Because it made him think of Voltron.  Of his friends.

And of Keith.

The team had gone silent last year—the Garrison hadn’t been able to contact them since.  And consequently, neither had Lance or Holt or any other loved ones.  

Lance could only hope his friends weren't in _too_ much trouble. 

Unlike the Garrison, he still had faith that they were all alive.  Partly because he couldn’t afford to believe otherwise.  Partly because they had Pidge, and Pidge could get them out of anything. 

They were fine. Lance was sure of it.

They couldn't even _be_ in trouble because there _wasn't_ any. 

The universe had been war-free for some time now.   The Galra had been defeated, their forces flushed out.  The Blade and the Coalition had taken back every imperialized planet and secured peace across galaxies.  

The threat was _gone_.

And most importantly, Lance had been right.   He'd _told_ them it was possible without him there.  He’d _told_ them they didn’t need him.  They'd done just fine without him.  Hell. They'd saved the _goddamn_ universe.

But…if everything _was_ okay, then that meant they'd stopped communicating with Earth intentionally.

And that hurt. 

Had they _forgotten_ about Lance?  

Or had they just...moved _on?_

Lance didn’t need a lot from them.  He just wanted to know if Pidge had finally defeated the final boss on Killbot Phantasm I.  He wanted to know if Shiro and Allura were together yet—or if Hunk and Shay had beat them to it.  Had Coran found the Altean planet?   Had Romelle found her place on the team? 

Lance missed Hunk a lot.  He wanted to hear his newest jokes. 

He missed Keith the most, though.

Which was unexpected.

And _pathetic_.

“Hey, babe,” Zamira said, kissing him on the cheek and shoving a mango smoothie into his hand.  Lance tore his gaze from the ocean to smile at his girlfriend.

She was a lifeguard at one of the beach hotels, and Lance couldn’t deny that she looked fucking phenomenal in her red swimsuit. 

“How was work?” he asked, slinging his arm over her shoulder as they walked away from the beach.

That was all the prompting she needed.  She launched into a thorough tale about her incompetent coworkers, and Lance found himself only half-listening.

He and Zamira had been on and off for a while now.  She wasn’t exactly looking for an exclusive arrangement, and once upon a time Lance would have wanted something serious, something real and meaningful.  But he’d tried that his freshman year of college, and it hadn’t ended well.

So two years later, Lance found himself with Zamira.  

And he was happy. 

He was...he was mostly happy.

Zamira was great.  She was _fun._   

Was she attractive? _Beautiful_.

Was she smart? Funny?  Not especially. But that was fine. Preferable, even.  Lance liked to be the one making the jokes.  Coming up with the plans.

Could she hurdle through outer space to save him from Galran spaceships?  Could she boil his blood? Could her smiles pin him to the clouds? 

No.

Lance was pretty sure only one person was capable of all that.

But he'd settle for mostly happy.

He drove Zamira home, kissing her goodnight, and he slowly made his way back to the house, trying to drag out the peaceful Sunday evening as long as possible.  Tomorrow he was back in school, juggling work and class and family.  Stressing and slaving.  

Embracing the normalcy of life on Earth.

He was hauling his board into the courtyard when he froze.

He blinked at the ground for a moment, reeling from the impossibility of it all.  Had he just seen what he'd thought he'd seen?  Or was that some cruel, high definition hallucination?

He looked up.

Perched on the hill, eyes glowing in the setting sun, was the Black Lion.  

Lance dropped his board, fingers numb. 

It wasn’t an illusion.

Black was _here_. Which meant…

Lance nearly tripped over himself as he raced into the house, throwing the door open. 

He slid to a stop when he saw Shiro in his living room, speaking to his mother in hushed tones. 

Lance forgot how to _breathe_.

Three years.

It’d been _three_ years since he’d seen his friend. 

His hair had grown out again, all black this time around.  There were circles under his eyes.  He looked weary.

“Shiro,” Lance choked softly, finding his voice. “ _Shiro_?”

The paladin turned, and he smiled—a sad smile, Lance thought.  “Lance,” he said warmly. 

Lance stumbled forward, yanking Shiro into a fierce hug, disbelieving. 

Was this even real?

Shiro squeezed him tightly, and Lance peeled away, glancing around the room.   “Is everyone else here too?  Pidge? Hunk? Keith?” He searched Shiro’s face. “Why are you _here_?” 

Not that Lance wasn’t pleased.  But he’d heard nothing for a whole year and then Shiro just shows up on his doorstep with the Black Lion??

“It’s just me, Lance,” Shiro said, and his face darkened.  “I'm sorry to barge in like this but…I need your help.”

 Lance read the seriousness in his leader’s gaze, the sadness on his mother’s,  and he felt his stomach drop.

“What happened? What is it?”

Shiro swallowed thickly, and Lance couldn’t believe his eyes—the man was close to _tears._

“It’s Keith.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Evil laughter*
> 
> This separation was always planned from day 1, just so you know. This story still has a LOT left to it.
> 
>  
> 
> * This is the song I had in mind during the dance bit (will open up in same tab): [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tj5HqTRpxM0)
> 
> And this is sort of what I imagined their dance like (but Keith would just be standing there rigidly lmao): [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVczWZir0po)
> 
> And this is the art: [Here](http://gtgrandom.tumblr.com/post/177909343544/lance-sighed-into-the-kiss-heart-in-his-throat)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I'm sorry for breaking so many hearts last chapter. I didn't actually mean to leave you guys on that awful of a cliffhanger - I literally just needed to break the chapter at some point, and that seemed like the best place! lol 
> 
> But here I am again with lots of answers. No Klance interaction in this chapter *cries* but we'll get a reunion next time, I promise. Instead we get some Shiro/Lance moments and Adashi. <3
> 
> Also, I added a sketch to chapter 9 if you want to go back and check it out! 
> 
> Thanks again for all the support, even though most of you want to murder me now. XD I love reading all your reactions - and your comments literally mean so much to me, even if they're just keyboard smashes of incoherent sounds or my favorite so far - "Bitch." 
> 
> Enjoy!

 " _It’s Keith.”_

Lance’s heart plummeted with the weight of a million horrible thoughts.

He stepped forward rigidly, _desperately_. “What happened to him? Is he…is he okay?”

Shiro pressed his lips together and exhaled through his nose, reining in his emotions. “I don’t know.  He’s been missing for five months.”

Lance swallowed, feeling a deep chill settle in his core.

_Missing?_

_How?_ Why had no one told Lance until now?!

There was a sudden burst of light between them, and Blue materialized right in the middle of Lance’s living room,  sniffing Lance’s shoes curiously. 

Lance stared down at the giant beast, blinking.   There was a _space wolf_ in his house. 

 _Keith’s_ wolf, who _never_ left his side.

“Sorry,” Shiro said tiredly, “he sort of just goes wherever he wants.  It’s like he thinks every time we go somewhere new, Keith is going to be there, and he gets his hopes up…”

Blue licked Lance’s hand a few times—greeting an old friend—and then he disappeared in another flash of light.

A second later, Lance’s mother yelped in the kitchen, and several pots crashed to the floor.   “¡Dios Mío!"

“ _Blue_!” Shiro called urgently, and the wolf reappeared in the living room, pacing back and forth.  He must have smelled traces of Keith here, Lance realized sadly.  He’d thought he’d finally _f_ _ound_ him.

Lance tore his gaze from the wolf and pulled Shiro over to the couch.   They sat, and Lance tried to string together a coherent sentence.  “What do you mean Keith’s _missing_?”

Shiro sighed, crumbling.   “He disappeared in the third quadrant with the Red Lion.  I don’t know where.  I’ve been searching for him, but…I haven’t found him yet.  I don’t even know…I don’t even know if he’s _alive_.”

Lance placed his hand on Shiro’s arm, squeezing.  “Of _course_ he’s still alive. We both know he’s too stubborn to die.  He’s _Keith_.  He’s probably stuck on another titanic whale or something.  Being his usual broody self.” 

Shiro attempted a smile, but it looked more like a wince.  

Lance had too many questions to even _begin_ to think about Keith—to even wrap his brain around the situation.  “I don’t understand how this even happened? Where are the others?”

The Black Paladin looked down, brows pinched together.

Lance frowned at him, tilting his head worriedly.  “Shiro?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and locking his hands.  He exhaled heavily.  “Voltron….Voltron split up, Lance.”

Lance turned to face him fully, eyes blown wide.  “… _What_?”

What the hell?

What did that even _mean_? 

He must have voiced his thoughts aloud because Shiro clenched his jaw, the muscle rippling up his cheek and temple.  “When the Galra were defeated, Voltron lost its purpose, Lance.  There was no reason for everyone to stick together anymore—the Coalition had things under control.  The universe didn’t need a super weapon.” 

Lance supposed that made sense.  With no war to fight, Voltron was just a giant fucking robot.  A _symbol,_ but a veteran. 

“We were planning to come back to Earth once things settled down, but we discovered that the Garrison and the UN were trying to militarize Voltron.  They wanted us to become _Earth’s_ defender.  They wanted us to harvest natural resources and quintessence from space.  They had mining missions.  Plans for colonizing foreign worlds…”

Lance scowled deeply, but he couldn't say he was surprised. 

Space used to be a frontier to be explored and admired.  It was the Garrison’s mission to broaden man’s horizon.  But with Voltron, the allure of discovery was destroyed. 

Voltron could _already_ go where no man had gone before.  With this new technology, they’d skipped centuries ahead.  

Exploration was no longer enough.

“As a team we agreed we couldn’t allow the power of Voltron to fall into the hands of the greedy, or we’d become the new Galra Empire,” Shiro continued.   “So we broke contact.  And we...we agreed we could no longer come home.  Not conspicuously, at least.  And not all at once.”

Lance blinked at that.  “So wait, the Garrison doesn’t know you’re here?”

“No. I’m sure they picked up my entry, though.”

Lance shook his head.  He still didn’t understand. How could Voltron break up?  They were _family_.  

“How did the team split up then? Where did everyone _go_?”

Shiro looked down again as he started counting off names. “Krolia returned to the Blade.  Hunk met up with Shay, and they’re setting up a nonprofit restaurant in the market sector.  Pidge left to do research on Olkarion.   Allura, Coran, and Romelle took the Castle to locate the Altean planet.  I tried to contact them about Keith’s disappearance, but I think the quantum abyss is blocking their signal. They…they don’t even _know_.”

Lance swallowed.  If they had Allura and the Castle at their disposal, they’d be able to track Keith down much faster.  But Shiro didn’t have the power to find any Lion.  He didn't have any wormhole technology. He’d been searching galaxy by galaxy, planet by planet.  A tedious task that likely just added to the hopelessness of the entire situation.

“And you and Keith?” Lance asked softly. “Where did you go?”

“We became peacekeepers essentially, helping planets rebuild and get back on their feet. Resolving any remaining conflicts,” Shiro said.  “Five months ago Keith left to address a disturbance in the Eridanus Cluster, but he never came back. The group who’d sent the distress signal said he’d never even shown up.”  Shiro’s brow rose with the distress in his voice.  “Pidge, Hunk, and Krolia helped me search for him, but the months went by, and we still had no leads.   We found Blue alone on a deserted moon, half-starved.”

Lance spared a glance at the wolf, who lay next to the front door as if he were expecting Keith to walk through it at any moment.

When Shiro had first said Keith was missing, Lance’s brain had immediately recalled the quantum abyss.  A wormhole.  The quintessence field.  Something that could have sucked Keith out of sight and out of reach. 

But for Blue to be left behind, Keith must have emerged from his lion first.  Or he was _taken_ out of it.

And that meant he’d seen someone or something before he disappeared.  An _event_ had occurred.  

He hadn’t just been swallowed up by the dark crevices of space. 

“After four months of leave, Krolia was called back to the Blade.  And eventually, Pidge and Hunk gave up looking too,” Shiro went on, eyes filling with water.  “I think...I think _they_  think he’s dead.  And I know there’s not any evidence that points to the contrary, but he _has_ to be alive.”   

Lance had never seen Shiro so broken before.  Not even his _clone_ had been this unsure of himself, this lost.  Seeing the hero he’d idolized for so many years in such a state made Lance’s chest feel like it was caving in, splintering his ribs and the tender organs beneath them.

Shiro shook his head slowly, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lance.  I didn’t want to come to you, but I’ve exhausted all my other options.”

Lance was glad he’d come to him.  He was grateful Shiro filled him in.

But…

“What can _I_ do?” Lance asked numbly.  If _Pidge_ couldn’t find Keith, how the hell was _Lance_ supposed to?

Shiro looked up at him.  “You have a connection to Red.  You might be able to track the lion down.  And if we can track down Red, we should be able to track down Keith.”

Oh.

Lance peered at his mentor sadly, cautiously. “Shiro…it’s been _three_ years.”

“It’s only been a year in space,” Shiro reasoned.  “Red will still remember you, what you two have.”

Lance took in Shiro’s despairing gaze, his cracking conviction.  “I don’t know, Shiro.  I might not be able to help you. I could try, but…my connection with Red has never been very strong.”  Never as strong as Keith’s. 

Shiro nodded, pained. “I know, Lance.  But…you’re all I have left. I don’t…I don’t know what else to _do_.”

Lance gazed at Shiro, his old leader, his _friend_.  The man had been searching for Keith tirelessly, clearly neglecting his own health if his sunken cheeks and eyes were anything to go by.  He might never give up on searching.  Even if it killed him.

If Lance went with him, there was a high chance they still wouldn’t find Keith.  That…that they might _never_ find him, as much as it pained Lance to admit.

If they left, he and Shiro could be gone for months.  Maybe _years_.

And tomorrow Lance went back to school.  He had a shift at the bar after class.  He had a date with Zamira. 

He had a _life_ here.

But…Shiro needed him. 

 _Keith_ needed him.

And…and there really wasn’t any decision to be made, was there? 

“Let me have one more day with my family.  To say goodbye,” Lance decided, locking eyes with Shiro.  “Then we go find Keith.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro had left to run some “errands,” so Lance spent the morning with his family, filling them in on the situation.  His plans to leave for an unknown period of time.  The _stakes_.

They’d been more supportive than Lance had anticipated. 

Marco had told him that school could wait, that Lance had helped plenty with the garage and the kids, and he’d fixed up the house twice over now.  He assured Lance he was no longer needed at home. 

Wanted? _Dearly_.

But no longer needed.

And that admission alone had lifted the whole world off Lance’s shoulders.  He’d hugged his brother before he’d left for work, promising him he’d bring him back some cool space junk next time.  He told him he’d drag Hunk along too so they could bond over nerdy engineering stuff.

Veronica was all business.  She helped him pack, reminding him of all the essentials he’d need.  She’d teared up a little bit when they were done but assured Lance that this was good, that she was proud of him.  That he didn't need to feel guilty for embarking on another adventure while she stayed behind.

He’d always looked up to Veronica most.  She was a genius.  She had the answer to everything, and she was so _cool_.  When his mother had been busy working to pay for their father’s medical bills, Veronica had taken over as the matriarch of the family.  She’d always been responsible, more than anyone he’d ever met. 

And to hear her say that she was proud of Lance had brought him to tears.

Luis was in America working on the construction of a desalination plant.  Lance had called him to let him know he was leaving, and his brother had merely said, “It’s about goddamn time.”

The kids were more excited than upset, which was a good thing, because Lance didn’t think he could handle a teary Milena today. 

She was eleven now, and she really _was_ better than all the boys at soccer.  Lance had practiced with her every Thursday night for the past three years to make sure of it.

She’d told him the next time he came home she’d be a World Cup champion. 

Diego had wrestled Lance to the floor, and the two of them had rolled around laughing and cursing.   Diego teased him about running off to be with his boyfriend, and Lance pinned him to the ground and gave him a noogie he’d never forget.

But it was Jessica who had given him a serious talking to.  She’d sat him down in her room and settled on her bed, staring at him seriously.

“Jess?” he’d prompted, sitting across from her awkwardly.  They were both way too big for this bunk bed.

“I don’t think anyone else is gonna say it, so I’m going to do it,” she said, clasping her hands together.

“Are you sure? Because it sounds like you aren’t going to say anything, and you’re gonna keep beating around the bush.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Listen.  When you find Keith—“

“ _If_ I find Keith,” Lance cut in, already dreading where this conversation was headed.  Jessica had been the one he’d confided in most about Keith.  She’d helped him identify his own feelings.  She’d been there on the night he’d finally broken down about the entire situation, the pain of leaving his friends, knowing Keith would hate him forever.  She’d been his shoulder to cry on when Clara had broken up with him on their one-year anniversary.  She’d been his backboard, the person he could tell everything to.  She’d just sit and paint her nails and listen.

She knew him too well. Especially when it concerned a certain fiery young cadet.

She sighed. “If you find him, you need to tell him _everything_.”

He gave her a dubious look.  “What do you mean?”

“Everything you felt about him.  Everything that was going through your head back when he stayed here with us.  He left you in a crippled mental state, and I’m positive you did the same to him.”  Lance looked away guiltily.  “You both need to be adults about this and have a grown-up conversation about your feelings.”

“Our _feelings_ are going to be the least of our worries up there,” he grumbled. 

“Bullshit,” she snapped, her dark eyes glowing dangerously in the sunlight. “There’s always time to talk about feelings.  They’re important, Lance.  Especially in a team dynamic.  And when you’re together again, there’s _going_ to be tension.  There’s no way out of it.  Don’t let it simmer.  Address it as soon as you can, or it _will_ fester.”

“What’s the point?” Lance pouted, raising his arms in the air.  “He doesn’t want anything to _do_ with me, Jess.  I left him a hundred video messages, and he never once replied to any of them.  Everyone else did. But Keith shut me out of his life.  If that isn’t a clear indicator of his absent feelings, I don’t know what is.”

Jessica rubbed at her temple.  “That’s why you need to talk face to face.  Stop making assumptions. Hash it out.”

Lance crossed his arms and glared out the window.  He just wanted things to go back to normal. He wanted to find Keith, find his friends, and glue everything back together.  He wanted to get Voltron back on its feet and forget all this _pain._

And maybe he wanted to feel the way he’d once felt in space. 

Alive.

Dangerously free.

_Important._

“Lance, I know you still love him,” she said, and Lance dug his nails into his skin, his eyes blinking rapidly against the light pooling into her room.  “I know you’re scared.  But love is a rare and special thing.  You know that better than anyone—you can’t just substitute one person for another.  It doesn’t work that way.”  She touched his knee, smiling at him softly.  “You have to fight for it, Lance. Don’t be afraid to love again. It’ll be worth it.  I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Lance met up with Zamira a few hours later, pulling her to the side during her lunch break.   

She’d been reapplying her sunscreen when he’d dropped the bomb. 

She stared at him now, dropping her hands to her sides—her leg still entirely white with SPF 50.

“I’m sorry,” Lance said again.  “I just…I’m gonna be gone for a while, and I don’t know how long, and…I don’t want you to wait for me.   I hate to do this to you like this, _here,_ but…I’m leaving tonight, and you won’t be able to get in touch with me after this…and—”

“Lance, you’re rambling,” she said, smirking slightly.  She bent over and finished rubbing in the lotion, scrunching her nose.  “You said it’s a rescue mission for the Garrison?”

He nodded.  He’d never told Zamira about Voltron, but he _had_ revealed that he’d been a pilot for some time before dropping out.

Which was _technically_ true.

She studied him for a moment, scrutinizing.  “Who is it? That you’re rescuing?  Some hot-shot?”

Lance grinned. “You could say that.  _He_ certainly thinks he’s a big deal.”

“And you’re dropping everything to go save him?” she asked, growing skeptical as she stood again, crossing her arms over her chest.

Lance’s grin faltered.  “The Garrison _requested_ me.”

“You could have said no.  There are dozens of pilots who have been there longer than you.”

Shit.  She was on to him.

“Well it’s…it’s…” Shit. Lance had _never_ been a good liar.

She punched him in the arm, gaping at him.  _Smiling._   “It’s the boy, isn’t it?”

Lance rubbed his bicep, staring at her incredulously. “What boy?”

“When you told me you were bisexual, and I asked you if you’d ever been with a guy, you said almost.  You said there was this one guy back at the Garrison, but you left before anything could happen.  I didn’t think much of it then, but now it all makes sense.   The boy that’s missing…it’s _him_ , isn’t it?”

What.  How the hell did she figure that out?

And why did she look so… _happy_?

“Look,” Lance said. “It’s not what you think, okay? I’m not _leaving_ you for him or—“

She shook her head quickly, beaming at him as she stepped forward and placed her hands on either side of his face.  “Lance, you’ve been an amazing boyfriend.  I had _so_ much fun with you here, and I was never, _ever_ bored.  But I told you from the beginning I wasn’t looking for anything serious.  And that hasn’t changed.”  She ran her thumb over his cheek tenderly.

Lance didn’t know what the fuck was happening.

“But _you_ …you’ve always wanted more.  Not from me, necessarily, but from _life_.   I could see it, how much you wanted to be a devoted boyfriend, someone you could pour your feelings out to, someone you could bring home to your family.  You were always looking for more—you _deserve_ more.”  She tilted her head at him, curly dark hair falling into her eyes.  “And this boy? This boy that you’re dropping everything for? Risking your life for?  He better know just how lucky he is to have Lance McClain after his heart.”

She kissed him then, quick and final. 

Lance blinked at her slowly, his lips still puckered.

“I …I’m…”  He didn’t know what to say.  This was not what he’d expected.  “Zamira… _thank_ you.  For understanding.”

She grinned.

“Take care, Lance,” she said, stepping back from him.  “I hope you find him.  And I hope you find what you've been looking for.”

He smiled after her as she walked away.

_So do I._

 

* * *

  

Lance waited for Shiro on the back patio, sitting with his mother on the old swing his father had put together.   They watched the sunset—a gentle swirl of pink and orange on a yellow backsplash.  Nothing overly dramatic.  Nothing special.  But it possessed a sense of normalcy—a mundane, earthen quality, and that ordinariness was something Lance had grown to deeply appreciate.

His mother put her hand on his knee, staring sadly at the sky, like she was bargaining with it or something.  _Don’t take him away_ , her eyes seemed to say.

Lance sighed.

“Ma, I won’t be gone as long as last time, okay?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.  Lickety-split.”

She shook her head, turning to look at him with a warm smile.  “No, mijo.  This is your _destiny_.  You were always meant to do great things.  You honor your family, saving lives, saving whole other worlds,” she said, gazing at him lovingly.  She squeezed his knee.  “We love you.  We will love you here, or billions of lightyears away.  But space is calling you, and you must go.”

He frowned slightly.  “But, last time I left…I was gone for too long.  I can’t just leave you all again.  I can’t… _stay_ up there.”

It sounded more like a question than a statement.

She looked down thoughtfully.  “As your mother, of course I don’t want you to be gone for long.  Part of me wants you to stay right here by my side forever.” She chuckled a little, and her eyes lifted.  “But as your mother, I also have to learn to let you _go_.”

Lance stared.

“You’ve done so much here, Lance.  Just knowing you’re alive has brought color back to my life.” She closed her glistening eyes, breathing out the sadness, and Lance felt his own eyes water.  “But you must follow your heart, cariño.  Don’t worry about us.  Don’t let us hold you back from being the man you were always meant to be.  Live your life.  That’s all I ask of you.”

Lance bit his lip.   She was giving him her blessing to go.  To go and stay gone. Almost as if she knew, deep down, part of him desperately missed space.  The adventures.  His _friends_.

“I love you _so_ much,” he breathed, pulling her into a tight hug.  “Do you know that?  More than _anything_.” He set his chin on her shoulder, looking out at the sky, the sea—a million lights dancing on its surface. “I’ll come back.”

She wrapped her arms around him softly, firmly, the way only a mother can, and Lance savored her touch.  “I know you will, mijo.  I just hope next time, you bring home a fiancé.”

He gaped, peeling back to laugh at her.  “ _Ma_!”

She grinned, patting him on the cheek.  “Be safe.  But not _too_ safe. ¿Comprendéis?

He looked deeply into her honey eyes and nodded.

Cuba had been his safety net.  A place to heal. In many ways, the _easy_ path.  

He’d sheltered his heart here, far away from the boy with the knife. 

But maybe everyone was right.  Maybe it was time to throw caution to the wind.

Maybe it was time to leave his heart open and unguarded and bare before the blade. 

 

* * *

  

Shiro had touched down with Black a moment later, greeting Lance's family. Lance said the last of his goodbyes and boarded the lion, his skin prickling with goosebumps. 

It was like stepping into the past.  Like walking into Blue’s cockpit for the first time. 

The machine hummed beneath his feet, and Lance grinned.

 _Welcome back_ , the lion seemed to purr.

He gripped tight to the back of Shiro’s chair during takeoff, closing his eyes as they shot into the sky.  As they breached the clouds, and then the atmosphere.

Damn.  

He’d missed the thrill. 

He’d missed the adrenaline of flying, even when he wasn’t the one behind the stick.

There was something _therapeutic_ that came of being airborne.  Especially once you breached gravity and could no longer _fall_.   It was just open space before you. 

Calling you home.

They traveled for a few hours, speeding far beyond the Garrison’s reach.  Shiro was silent the entire time, and Lance had to wonder exactly where he’d gone during the day to make him so pensive. 

When they’d landed on some rocky moon for the night, Lance peered over at him curiously. 

“Shiro?  Are you…doing okay?”

Shiro spun in his seat, looking at Lance with a quiet anger.  Whatever he saw on Lance’s face must have snapped him out of it though, because his face instantly softened, and he shook his head.  “I’m sorry, Lance.  I’ve just…I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Lance leaned back against the side of the cockpit, his legs crossed in front of him.  “Keith?”

“For once, no.  Not Keith.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “Shit. Did _I_ do something?”

Had he annoyed Shiro already?  That must have been a record.

Shiro’s eyes crinkled in the lines of his feeble smile.  “No, Lance.  It’s…” He swallowed, looking to the side.  “It’s not something you need to worry about.”

Lance was about to drop it altogether and propose that they rip into his mother’s care package, but then he looked at Shiro’s furrowed brow and his tired, aching eyes, and he reconsidered.

He’d never been very close to Shiro.  Part of that was a result of Shiro’s role as leader—it had created a separation between them from the very start.  But it was also Lance’s fault because he’d never gone to Shiro about personal issues.  He’d never really sat down and talked to him about his life.  He’d spent too much time trying to impress him and out-perform Keith that he never took the time to get to know the very man he sought approval from.

And that was the first thing Lance was going to change.  Starting now.

“No,” he said, drawing Shiro’s gaze again.  “Tell me.  Maybe it’d be good to talk about it.” Lance lifted his shoulders, smirking. “When you’re up in space alone with your thoughts all day, they can really start to weigh on you.  Pretty soon you start to sound like Coran.”

Shiro regarded him carefully, but then he nodded, looking down at the floor.  “Today I went to visit a friend of mine.”

Friend?

Oh.

_Right._

Lance forgot how popular Shiro had been once.  He used to be the Garrison’s star pupil.  He’d no doubt made loads of friends back in Arizona. 

He’d never really thought about it before—the concept of Shiro having a gang he could go get drinks with.  Lance just always saw him as the cool space dad, not a twenty-something male with real _friends_.

“I don’t really know what I expected. We haven’t seen each other in almost nine years,” Shiro said miserably. “I never should have gone.”

“Why?” Lance asked. “What happened? What did they say?”

“Well. I didn’t exactly…talk to him,” Shiro confessed. “He didn’t see me….”

“Then…” Lance frowned, unused to this cryptic speak from Shiro.  “Then what did _you_ see?”

Shiro swallowed, looking up at him through a tuft of black hair.  “He’s moved on.”

Lance stared back, blinking once.

Twice.

“Moved on,” Lance repeated, his head making connections that didn’t make any sense, because there was _no way_ … “Moved on from what? The Garrison?”

The edge of Shiro’s mouth lifted sadly. “No.  From _me_ , Lance.  He’s moved on from me.”

No way…there was _no_ way…

He just meant he’d gotten new friends, right?  Acquired new pals?

But Lance wasn’t _that_ stupid.  He could read the vulnerability on Shiro’s face.  It was easy to identify—Lance had worn the same expression many times.

.

 _Heartbreak_.

.

Holy shit.

Like, holy _shit_.

Shiro was gay.  And Lance was fucking oblivious. He’d _actually_ thought Shiro and Allura were a _thing...._

“I…” Lance cleared his throat, trying not to make it a big deal—even though it was a _very_ big deal.  “So this guy…you were more than friends.”

Shiro nodded, and he sat back in his chair, slouching. “His name’s Adam.  We were in the Garrison together.  At one point we were sort of...engaged.”

What.

_...What?!!!_

Lance gaped, _reeling_.  The hell was going on right now?

Engaged?

How was he just now learning all of this about the man he’d looked up to since he was a kid?

“You were _engaged_?” Lance cried.  How had Shiro never talked about this before?  How had it not come up _once_ over their twenty months together? 

Was Lance just…socially inept? 

He’d thought he was better than Keith when it came to interpreting social cues, but Lance hadn’t even realized Pidge was a girl, or that Allura was crushing on Lotor, or that Keith and Shiro were _gay_! 

It was all right in front of his face, and he hadn’t seen any of it.

Lance froze when the second epiphany hit. “Wait.  Adam? As in…Adam _Warren_?”

Shiro’s brows lifted at that. “Yeah…?”

Lance shot to his feet.  “Oh my _god_ , Shiro!”

“What?”

“Adam was my English tutor!  He’s _hot_. Like, insanely hot.  And the glasses?  Oh, man.  That masterpiece is literally responsible for my bi awakening.”

Shiro shook his head at him, a small smile on his face.

“Wow.  I can’t believe you two were a thing.  A _big_ thing.” 

He’d always seen Shiro as a more charming version of Keith—all business, no time for love and romance.

And here he was an _engaged_ man.

And fuck, Adam Warren?  He majorly influenced Lance’s English slang.  The nicknames? The American pop culture references? All Adam’s fault.

The guy had looked like an angel, but he was one salty motherfucker.  And his sarcasm and natural wit had made  _Lance_ want to marry him.

Apparently Lance had a thing for smartasses. 

Shiro released an amused breath. “Yeah.  We were _big_.”

“So…what happened?” Lance asked timidly.  How did two people go from engaged to not even speaking to each other?

Shiro glanced away—sensitive topic.  

“Sorry. You don’t have to tell me,” Lance said, shoving his hands in his pockets.  He didn't want to pry. 

Shiro shook his head.  “Actually, I think you were right.  Talking about it…helps.”

Lance smiled encouragingly, waiting for Shiro to continue.

 “Before I was captured by Haggar and before she healed me, I was diagnosed with BMD…a kind of muscular dystrophy. It was bad, and it was getting worse.  I wasn’t projected to live past my thirties…”

Shiro glanced up at Lance to gauge his reaction.

But Lance just stared at him.  Confused.

Stunned.

 _Devastated_.

Shiro had been _sick_. He’d had a _disease_.

Images of Lance’s father instantly flashed in his brain.  Pale.  Weak.  Frustrated at his inability to move like he once had, to lift heavy machinery, to live a normally functioning life.  Breaking down in front of Lance one evening because he couldn’t take it anymore.

Lance blinked the cruel memories away.

When Lance said nothing, Shiro pushed on.   “Obviously, when the Garrison found out, they didn’t want me piloting.  But piloting was my _dream_.  It was a part of who I was, and a lot of the time, it felt like it was all I _had_.  I refused to stop doing what I loved, even if it killed me.   And it nearly did once.”   He looked up, as if he could see the memories on the ceiling.   “Adam had been there to help me recover from that incident—he’d been there every step of the way.  He still wanted to _marry_ me, even if I was losing my muscles, even if I ended up dying before we said our vows.” Shiro’s hands curled into fists atop his knees.  “But then the Kerberos Mission came up, and I…I couldn’t conquer my pride.  They tried to tell me I couldn’t go because of my disease, and it just… _got_ to me, Lance.  I wasn’t going to let my sickness define me.  I was so much more than a dying body, and I was _tired_ of letting my disability control me, strip away what I was.”

Lance understood.  He’d seen his father grapple with the loss of his strength and intelligence.  He’d always been the man of the family, a man of power, of unrelenting humor and ingenuity.

But the brain cancer had tried to pry that label from his worn and weathered fingers.

And Lance had begged him to let go, to _rest_.

“Adam didn’t want you to go,” Lance deduced, his shoulders dropping.  “Did he?”

Remorse danced in Shiro’s eyes.  “No.  He didn’t. He was scared, and he basically told me if I went, it was over.  That he couldn’t go through the pain of losing me again.”  Shiro crammed his eyes shut. “But I went.  I went for my own selfish reasons.  I left him behind, and he was told I was dead, and he had to _mourn_ me.  He had to live with the fact that our last conversation had been us calling off the engagement.  That I’d left with him mad at me.  I _did_ that to him, Lance.”

Lance’s chest swelled with emotion.  “Shiro, you couldn’t have known everything was going to turn out like it did.  If the Galra had never found you, you _would_ have gotten home safely.”

Shiro exhaled shakily.  “I don’t know if it would have mattered.  He’s with someone else now.  He looks happy.” He swallowed thickly. “And I know it’s been nine years for him, and he doesn’t know if I’m alive, and I should be over it.  But I’m not, Lance.  I’m really, _really_ not.”

Lance bit his lip, and he was suddenly moving for Shiro, yanking him against his chest and wrapping him in his arms.   

Shiro sat against him stiffly, his head pressed into Lance’s stomach.   

Lance’s heart broke a little at the fact that Shiro seemed as foreign to human touch as Keith had been.  Sure, Shiro was always offering a firm hand on the shoulder.  A gentle pat on the back. But he was always _initiating_ it.

No one ever comforted Shiro—he always acted so calm and collected and strong, as if he didn’t require the same affection that he so readily offered.

Lance felt a new wave of protectiveness wash over him.  The kind that he felt for Veronica—the indestructible leader in his family.  

Because behind the glasses and the tough skin, she was just as human as the rest of them.  And from a young age Lance had taken it upon himself to make sure she was okay.  To always check in with her.  To force her to tell him about her life and the things she considered trivial or burdensome to the rest of the family. 

Now he vowed to do the same for Shiro.  

When Lance felt that the paladin had been properly smothered, he stepped back from the chair. 

Shiro looked a bit dazed.  A _lot_ confused, like he wasn’t sure what had just happened.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Shiro,” Lance said, gripping his mentor’s metal shoulder.  “I…I sort of understand how you feel.  Not the magnitude of it all, but…” Lance retracted his hand and folded his arms over his chest.  “I kind of get what it feels like to choose a path where you lose the one person you really care about.  How you can’t really _regret_ the decision, because it led you here, because you had to do it for yourself…but how you wish you could just go back in time and _fix_ everything.”

Shiro looked up at him, quirking a brow.  “Are you talking about what I _think_ you’re talking about?”

Lance grinned sheepishly.  “Maybe?  I don’t know.  I’m just trying to say that I know how hard it is to live with that decision, and I couldn’t even imagine if K—“ Lance caught himself, “if the person I loved had moved on too, especially before I could set things right.”

He’d never even considered it before.  Keith was just so… _Keith_ , that Lance hadn’t even imagined him actually dating someone else.  Had Keith confessed to his unrequited love yet? Had he fallen in love with some hot alien man?  What if Keith was in a serious relationship?  What if—

“Lance,” Shiro said, kicking Lance out of his own head.  He was smirking.  “Keith wasn’t seeing anyone before he went missing.”

Lance fought the urge to collapse in relief, to praise the heavens and kiss the floor.  “Huh? Wha—who said anything about _Keith_?”

Shiro rolled his eyes, but Lance was just glad to see some of the tension bleed from his shoulders.

Lance moved to retrieve the goods from his mother’s care package, but he stopped, turning back around.  “Shiro?”

The man looked at him curiously.

“Adam doesn’t know you still love him, does he?” 

Shiro opened his mouth and closed it again, clenching his jaw. 

“He doesn’t even know if you’re _alive_ ,” Lance continued, thinking of Jessica and her parting advice.  About how important communication really _was_. “I think you should say something to him the next time we’re on the ground.  I know he’s with some other dude now, but I mean…you two were going to spend the rest of your _lives_ together.   He deserves to know you’re still breathing, that your disease is gone, that your feelings still exist, doesn’t he?  If the love of my life had suddenly returned from the dead, I’d want to know.”

Shiro eyed him warily. “Even if you’d moved on?”

Lance smiled sadly, thinking of his own attempts to do so without closure, without a proper goodbye. 

“Honestly, Shiro?  I don’t think he really _has_.” 

 

* * *

 

The next few days passed slowly, with Lance frankly bored out of his mind.  All he did was sit in the cockpit and fret about Keith.

And the worst part was he had absolutely no idea where Red was.

He’d tried to focus on the lion and the old connection that ran between them, but the line felt… _dead_.  There was no vibration on the other end.  Just cold silence.

He tried calling for Red verbally too for a while, pleading and flirting incessantly—much to Shiro’s discomfort.   But there was still nothing. 

He felt like a fucking _failure_.

Shiro told him his mental link might get stronger the closer they got to the Eridanus Cluster, which was still about two weeks out.    Lance had nodded solemnly, but he wasn’t sure this was going to work.

What if they got all the way out there only for Lance to feel nothing?  Or what if Red was on the complete opposite side of the universe? 

How long would they search in the wrong spot before they realized Keith wasn’t there?  What happens if whatever took Keith came after them too?  

He didn’t voice these concerns, positive Shiro had already come up with these questions months ago. 

But they itched.

While they traveled, Shiro told him more about the victory over the Galra and the entire _month_ of festivities and celebrations that followed.  Lots of food.  Lots of gifts.   He said Lance would have loved it.

He also told Lance more about the Coalition and the Blade, and what they were up to now that the belligerent generals were wiped out.

Lance soaked up the new information greedily, starved from the lack of video feed he’d received. 

It was strange.

On Earth, Lance had never felt more at home with his family and his culture.  Loved.  Welcomed.  _Valued_.  But he’d never felt so disconnected from real life either.

Sending a video to the team and hearing back from them two months later hadn’t been enough.

He’d _missed_ them.  Life hadn’t been the same without them.

But soon, he’d be able to see them again.  _All_ of them. 

He'd make sure of it.

Lance didn’t tell Shiro that he planned to get everyone back together.  First they had to find Keith, after all.  But he knew in his heart what his purpose was now.

He’d brought Voltron together once.  With his impulsive decision to sneak out of the Garrison and run after Keith and place his hand over the carvings on that cave wall, he’d assembled a team.

It was his duty to bring that team together again.

 

* * *

 

The first world they stopped at for supplies was an industrial planet.  It actually reminded Lance a lot of pictures he’d seen of London back in the early 20th century.  Except for the aliens and shit. 

They parked Black on an open field and headed into town just as the sun was setting.  Shiro, in his paladin armor, earned reverent looks and bows. Lance received several raised eyebrows and peculiar glances. 

He wasn’t sure if they recognized him or not.

It kind of hurt, honestly.

Once upon a time, everyone knew his face.  He was the Red Paladin.  The Sharpshooter.  The Goofball.  Loverboy Lance.  Now he was a blurry face.

They walked down a cobblestone road lined with brick buildings and shops.  Vendors waved as they passed, holding up oddly-shaped vegetables or bizarre clothing.   The marketplace smelled like liquor and gamey meat, and Lance found himself grinning at the strange creatures wandering about with their extra eyes or odd skin tones. 

He’d missed the unfamiliar.

It was...refreshing, the weirdness.  

While Shiro was busy buying Lance some space gear, Lance’s gaze was drawn to the pub across the street.   

The door was open, and the windows were all down, lit with warm hues and colors.  Lance could hear the clanking of pitchers and hearty laughter inside.

He tugged on Shiro’s arm.  “I’m gonna check this bar out.”

Shiro paid for the helmet and turned to look at Lance, exasperated.  “ _Lance_.”

“It’s not because of that,” Lance protested, rolling his eyes.

“Then why?”

Lance pulled Shiro away from the vendor, lowering his voice.  “Look.  I know that you spoke to the Coalition and the Blade about possible explanations for Keith’s disappearance.  I know you asked everyone in the vicinity of where you found Blue.  But have you stopped to ask anyone about the myths and the legends?  Folklore? That kind of thing?”

Shiro gave him a blank look.

“Keith vanished, Shiro.  That’s some creepy shit, especially with the Galra forces gone.  Sometimes we have to look at irrational explanations.  The universal gossip.  The _stories_.”

“You think someone in _that_ bar is going to know something about the Eridanus Cluster we _don’t_?” Shiro asked, skeptical. “None of these people have ever been  _close_ to that sector.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lance said simply.  “Rumors spread like wildfire, even in space.  Especially in popular space pubs with a bunch of drunkards. Someone’s got to know _something_.”

Shiro considered him for a moment, and then he nodded. “Alright.  You go investigate.  No drinking.”

“Uh, you know I’m 21 now, right?”

Shiro smirked like this was cute. “Did you forget what happened the last time you got drunk on a foreign planet? We don’t need any more near-death experiences.  No drinking.”

“Killjoy.”

 

* * *

 

If Lance had learned one thing from his communications major, it was that people _knew_ things. Maybe not important things. Maybe not relevant things.  But everyone had a _story_ to tell.

And stories were the key to unraveling the past.  To exploiting future opportunities.  

In this case, they were crucial in understanding what happened to Keith.

So Lance did his thing. 

He weaved his way into the center of each circle with that winning smile.  He asked about the Eridanus Cluster.  He asked about strange activity in the third quadrant.  He listened to a tale about ancient space pirates that roamed the edges of the known universe and stole priceless goods. One alien claimed a black hole was consuming everything just several million lightyears away from the Cluster, and if someone got sucked into that thing, he would be reduced to ash.  Or at least, _one_ copy of him would be.  The other copy would be sucked toward a rupture in space-time, unable to turn back.

Lance had almost bit through his lip at the thought of Keith getting sucked into a black hole.  Disappearing forever. 

 _Incinerated_ in this reality.  Helplessly lost in the next.

Other stories just became more and more far-fetched and apocryphal, and Lance finally excused himself to go sit at the bar.  He ordered the planet’s equivalent of a Virgin Mary with the stash of GAC he’d kept with him all these years.  His "just in case" stash.

He swiveled back and forth on the stool, feeling hollow inside. 

Maybe Shiro was right.  Maybe these people were not the right source of information for tracking down half-Galran paladins with anger management issues.

Lance sipped on the cocktail miserably.

Fucking Keith.

Why’d he have to go and get himself lost? 

“—those pirates have it, I’m sure of it,” one of the aliens from earlier was saying—Aot, Lance recalled.

“Enough with the pirates,” the four-eyed bartender complained.  “That orb doesn’t even exist. That’s fiction.”

“My great, great, great grandfather would disagree!”

“Your great granddaddy was a kook then!”

“It’s real, I’m telling you,” Aot insisted. He had rough, leathery skin and a head sort of shaped like a triceratops’s.

“A magic ball that can predict the future?” one of the locals asked, laughing.  “It’s nonsense.”

Lance frowned, turning in his stool.  “Are...you guys talking about a _Magic_ _8-Ball_?”

They stared at him, and Aot smiled, whacking his friend in the arm.  “Even the earthling knows of it!  It’s _real_!”

Lance decided not to crush the poor guy’s hopes and dreams, so he just nodded.  It _was_ real, technically.

“Well, legitimate or not, if you really wanted to track something like that down, you’d need an Invenian,” the bartender pointed out.  

There were murmurs of agreement all around.

Lance frowned.   _Invenian_? Where had he heard that word before?

“Ha! An Invenian?!” the local cried.  “You know how scarce those are these days?  No one has even seen one since the end of the war, as if they weren’t already impossible to hire before that.”

“If you could even _afford_ one,” Aot lamented. “They charge more than the good you’re after.  Plus you run a high chance of them killing you and keeping the item for themselves!” 

The bartender nodded. “Dangerous folk.”

Lance faced them fully now, captivated. “Sorry…but why would you want an Invenian to find something like the 8-Ball?”

Aot raised his leathery palms. “Invenians are capable of tracking any item in the universe.  The Galra enslaved them to locate stolen ships and weapons, usually stowed away among rebel forces.  Back when the Invenian species was prevalent, many were hired under the table to find lost treasure or family heirlooms.” 

“Expert trackers,” the local agreed.  “But at what _cost_?”

Lance could hardly breathe.  He was _jittering_.  “And…Invenians.  They’re like…blueish skin?  Black eyes? Yeah?”

Surprise rippled across his company’s faces.  “Have you _seen_ one before?”

Lance shook his head, slipping off the stool.  “Nope. Just heard things.” He nodded at them, leaving a few more GAC on the counter.  “Thanks for your help.”

He found Shiro a few stalls down from the pub, purchasing some fruit.   Shiro glanced over and raised his brows at the ecstatic expression on Lance’s face.  

“I think I have a lead.”

Shiro straightened at that, a pair of lights igniting in his empty eyes.  “Really?”

Lance’s cheeks hurt from the smile tearing at the corners of his mouth. 

“Remember Portux?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance really is the glue of Voltron and a resourceful cinnamon roll <3
> 
> I ship Shiro and hugs okay? And obviously Adashi. (But I can't deny I still really love Shallura and I'm happy so many pre-reveal fics feature it - don't @ me)
> 
> Next time: klangst part 1


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYA. I added a sketch of the kiss scene in chapter 12 if you want to go back and see it. I'll probably slowly be adding more fanart to this story, even after it's over. Ideally, I would have had it ready for each update, but I just don't have that kind of time! Or patience.
> 
> Sorry this took two whole weeks, but this is a SUPER LONG CHAPTER that really should be split in two...but it's not because you all deserve as much klance as possible after waiting for so long. (Seriously though, get a snack, get some water, go to bed if it's late. This chapter is a monster)
> 
> Thanks again for being so supportive. You guys are seriously the best. Like...I can't even express how happy it makes me to see all of your comments and kudos. I try to reply to each of you, but if any of your comments slip through the cracks, just know that I really appreciate you taking the time to read and say how you felt about it.

It had taken quite a bit of convincing on Lance’s part to get Shiro to take them to Portux.  Because yeah, there were a ton of unknown variables, and yeah, the planet wasn’t exactly on the _way_.

“Do you have any idea where this…Lox…person might be?” Shiro asked as Black flew over the commercial district. 

“No,” Lance admitted, peering below them. The crumbling apartment complexes and dusty streets passing them by.   “But she said she had family here.  So she’s somewhere.  I’m assuming she lives outside the city.”

Shiro said nothing, and Lance could tell he didn’t like this plan.  It was a _delay_. 

Because in Shiro’s mind, Lance was the solution to finding Keith.  They just needed to get back to the Eridanus Cluster as soon as possible.  But Lance knew they couldn’t rely on his connection with Red. They needed a backup plan.  And Lox—she was that contingency.

They flew past the city and the long stretch of desert, searching for buildings or anything resembling a residential community at all.   But all they could see was desert. 

“She might not even be here anymore,” Shiro said skeptically.  “After they took her prisoner, I don't think she'd go back to where she lived before. It wouldn't be safe."

Lance pursed his lips.  “My guess is that they found her near the casino.  Snatched her off the streets.  If her family was still _safe_ , then the cartel must not have found her home.  And if she’s not here… _someone_ in her family has to be.” 

Lance could see the question in Shiro’s eyes.

If the _cartel_ didn’t find her again, how were he and Shiro supposed to?

The desert broke off into a web of canyons and fissures like broken glass, the aerial view reminding Lance of the sub-baked clay in the Western United States.  He could dimly recall Keith flying through this maze before. Like a _maniac._

“Shiro…” he said, nodding to their right.  One of the larger gorges held a snaking river in its valley.

And water _always_ meant people.

They descended into the canyons, following the stretch of green river.  

At first there was nothing but rocky cliffs and soil, but as they flew on, Lance spotted several small caves and alcoves hidden within the walls of the canyon, away from the dust storms and the heat—artificial homes holed out by intelligent creatures.

Lance scanned the honeycomb formations, recognizing tapestries and clothes hanging from the entrances of the caves, pots and pans sitting out on ledges to capture rainwater.  The riverbank was peppered with tents and aqueducts. 

They’d found a colony. 

 _Just one colony among hundreds_ , Lance told himself.  _Don't get your hopes up._

“Set down in the valley,” Lance advised. “People will file out when they see the lion.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Shiro murmured.

They landed in the riparian habitat sandwiching the stream, and heads started popping out of the caverns at the sound of their arrival.  Aliens of all different sizes and races began climbing down ladders and rope bridges to gather around Black—awed, confused, excited.   They wore layers and head scarfs and robes, all pale brown and gray, just like the rocky terrain around them.  

Lance’s fingers twitched.

He didn’t see any Invenians.

“Let’s...see what they have to say,” he said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. 

This detour had to be worth it. 

Otherwise Lance had put off saving Keith several days more than necessary.  And for all they knew, Keith could be several days from _death_.  If something happened to him...that would fall on Lance. 

_Stop it._

_Keith's fine._

_He_ has _to be fine._

They emerged from the lion, standing before the small crowd, searching faces.  Blue materialized beside them, sniffing the air, the ground, looking for his _person._   The citizens around them whispered to one another, grinning.  

“Paladins of Voltron?” an Arielian asked, red skin and yellow eyes stark against the dry landscape. 

Shiro seemed a bit distracted, his eyes taking in each individual slowly, summing and subtracting their parts.  Lance couldn't blame him for keeping his guard up—they were in a hidden canyon of a lawless land.  If these people turned on them, no one would know to come save them.  They'd vanish without so much as a whisper, just like Keith.

But Lance could see that these people were not their enemy.  They were poor rural folk, probably outcasts and convicts seeking a better life away from the corruption in the city, far from the eyes of the universe.  

They'd formed a tight-knit community here.  

Lance could work with this. 

He stepped forward, nodding. “Voltron. That’s _right!_ The name’s Lance. I piloted the Red Lion.  You probably remember me though,” he flashed them a disarming smile—the smile he’d run their campaign on.  “This over here is Shiro, the Black Paladin and leader of Voltron." Lance bowed. "Please forgive the intrusion.”

That finally pulled Shiro’s focus back to the conversation at hand, and he waved to the crowd in his diplomatic fashion.

“Paladins, it is an honor to meet you,” an older Puigian said, opening his palms.  “How can we help the great heroes of the universe?  Do you seek accommodations for the night?  Supplies?”

Lance exchanged looks with Shiro.  The paladin gave a subtle nod—the green light.

“We’re actually…looking for our friend," Lance put carefully.  "We think she might live here.  Her name’s Lox?”

At the drop of her name, Lance watched several gazes dart to one another, a few faces tighten with surprise. 

And _suspicion_. 

Lance bit his cheek to keep the smile off his face.   That was _exactly_ the response he’d been hoping for.

The Puigian pressed his lips together, the blue stripes on his face contorting in discomfort.  The alien wolf sniffing his boots didn't help any.  “I…am afraid we do not know of any Lox.  Perhaps you are mistaken?”

Lance kept his expression neutral—keeping up the innocuous decorum.  "Maybe she goes by a different name now.  Big pretty black eyes, about yea high?" 

Lance held up his hand to the height he remembered, looking around for signs of recognition.  

Their faces gave them away, but no one spoke up.

They were protecting her. 

"We're not here to hurt her," Lance assured them, meeting each of their gazes, watching them soften with curiosity.  "We just need to ask her some questions.  A paladin's life is at stake."

The Puigian frowned, and Lance could tell he genuinely wanted to help them.  But he wouldn't betray one of his own, and Lance couldn't hold that against him.  "Unfortunately, we do not harbor the individual you—"

“It’s alright, Trik.”

The voice came from the rear of the crowd, eliciting several gasps.  Lance swallowed nervously as the figure weaved through the bodies, pulling the hood back from her face.

Seawater skin. Eyes of black marble.  A long braid tucked into her scarf and tunic.    

 _Lox_.

“Friends,” she assured her nervous companions.     

“Yes. Friends,” Lance repeated, _breathless._  

She was here. 

He’d _found_ her. 

She locked eyes with him.  “Still alive." 

Lance grinned at the surprise in her voice, realizing that she must have thought him dead all this time.  "I'm hanging in there."

She hummed in amusement, and she glanced over at Shiro, then back at Lance.   "What do you seek, Paladins?” 

Lance wet his lips.  “It’s…Keith. You remember Keith, don’t you?”

She dipped her chin.  “Master Kogane.”

“Right,” Lance said, ignoring Shiro’s puzzled frown.  “Well, he’s missing. He’s been missing for months.  And…and we’ve run out of options.  When we heard what Invenians were capable of...”

She tilted her head, blinking once, black eyes unreadable. “Wish to track Master Kogane.”

The aliens around them whispered among each other.  Lance heard _Keith_ and _Red Paladin_ in concerned voices, words like _impudent_ and _gall_ laced with venom.  

Lance understood their contempt. 

Lox had likely immigrated here with her family to escape persecution.  Disappeared into the hidden walls of Portux, lest she become a slave to the Galra, lest she be forced to pinpoint rebel bases.  

And now Lance was here asking to use her gifts for his own selfish purposes, the very thing she’d run away from.

That...didn't look good.

“Yes,” Lance admitted, and she stared at him, wearing a blank expression that made him nervous.  “I know you require payment, and I’m willing to give you anything you want. I mean I don’t…really own much, and you can’t exactly have _Keith_ , but I’ll do whatever you—“

“No payment,” she said, waving him off.  She studied him for another beat, and then she nodded to herself, her mind made up.   “You saved me.  I save Master Kogane.”

Lance felt his heart twist itself into a knot.  " _Really?”_  

He’d had a whole speech worked out and everything.  He'd been ready to beg on his knees.  Sell his soul.  _Anything._

She nodded, smiling a little at his shock.  “I go with, then?”   She gestured to the Black Lion, unaware of the emotional punch she'd just delivered, the solace she'd just granted them. 

Lance swallowed, grinning back at her incredulously _._    Shiro stood to the side, wide-eyed, his mouth parted, like he didn’t know where to even begin in expressing his gratitude.  

They'd just recruited one of the best trackers in the entire universe by...happenstance. 

Who would have thought Keith's righteous intervention in the trafficking incident would have led them here?  The bastard's impulsiveness had saved his own life.   

“Yes,” Lance managed finally.  “We’ll be gone for a couple weeks.  Is that okay?”

She shrugged.  “No trouble.  We leave today, yes?"

Lance laughed at her candor, an overwhelming sense of relief pushing out against his chest. “Yeah, if that’s alright. As soon as you’re ready."

She nodded again, and the crowd began to dissipate, parting in twos and threes to gossip over the Invenian recruitment.  The paladins were left alone with Lox in the center of camp, Blue pacing back and forth, miffed at being duped again.

Lance couldn't even contain his joy.  He beamed at Shiro, who still looked a little off balance, like he wasn't sure this was real.  

They were one step closer to finding Keith.  One step closer to bringing the team back together. 

“One condition,” Lox said, frowning at them, “I need...token.”

“ _Token?”_

“To find lost item, I need piece first,” she explained, struggling to find the right words.  “Have a piece of Master Kogane with you?  Token? Belonging?”

Oh.

Shiro cursed beside them—something Lance wasn't sure he'd ever witnessed before.  But he understood Shiro's distress.   

Keith owned a total of _maybe_ three things, and those three things he kept on his person at all times. 

…All but one.

Lance gripped Shiro’s arm, squeezing reassuringly.  “Actually, I do.”

  

* * *

 

In the cockpit, Lox held Keith’s old jacket in her small hands, her dark eyes shut to the world, lashes fluttering as she concentrated.

Lance shifted from foot to foot.  Was it working?

What was _happening_?

Could she see Keith?

Fuck. He was going to have a heart attack.  

Shiro stilled him with his hand, glancing at him like a parent would a young, hyperactive child.  Lance held his breath, hoping he might just pass out from the lack of oxygen.

He couldn’t take this.

What if she…what if she _couldn’t_ find him?

What if Keith was _gone_?

No.

No—Keith wouldn’t die quietly, without a witness. If that idiot ever died, he would go out doing something memorable, something legendary.   And Lance would be right there beside him.  

Lox finally opened her eyes, and she looked up at them, tilting her head to the side, face blank.  Lance didn’t like it when she did that.  

“He’s outside mapped universe.”

“ _Outside_?” Lance repeated.  What next level shit had Keith gotten himself into?

Shiro’s grip tightened on his shoulder.  “Does that mean you know where he is?”

She handed the jacket back to Lance, her dark brows pinched together.  “I have trajectory.  When closer, exact coordinates.”

Exact. 

Now _that_ was a beautiful word.

Lance swallowed.  “Can you…can you tell if he’s _alive_?”

Her solid black eyes lifted with sympathy, and she shook her head.  “Only trace body.  Not consciousness.  Apologies.”

“That’s okay, don’t be sorry,” Lance said gently, trying to keep his emotions in check.  “You’re already helping us so much, Lox.  I don’t think you realize just _how_ much.”

The Invenian had _located_  Keith, and that meant Lance was going to see him again, one way or another.  

And...Lance suddenly realized he was  _far_ from ready.

“Lance is right. I’ve been looking for Keith a long time, but this…this is the first time I’ve felt real hope,” Shiro confessed.  “Thank you, Lox.”

She smiled at him.  “Master Kogane loved by many, yes?”

Lance and Shiro shared a grin.  “Yeah. He is."

“Then happy to help.”

Shiro released an amused breath, and he nodded.  “Alright then, Lox. Let’s set our course.”

  

* * *

  

Lox had been fascinated by Black, and she asked Shiro a list of questions about the control panel and the lion’s power source.  To save Shiro from having to explain the novelty of quintessence, Lance had jumped in.  He asked Lox about her time on Portux, and if she’d ever found her family.

Her face softened.  “Very happy to see me,” she’d said, recollecting her return to the caves.  “My sisters.”

“Is it just you and your sisters then?”

She nodded, sitting down next to him.  “Last Invenians.”

Lance readied his reply, but he froze as the meaning of the words hit him.   _Wait_.   

“You mean…you’re the only Invenians _left_?  In the _universe?”_

“Yes?” She looked puzzled.  "Did not know?"

Lance shook his head, blinking rapidly.  “I thought…I heard that your people just disappeared during the war.  Went into hiding.”

“They did,” she said, her black eyes darkening even more, impossibly.  “But one Invenian…traitor. Loyal to Galra.  Sold out other Invenian.  Hunted us down.”

Lance’s gut turned over. “But…didn’t the Galra want your people as slaves?  Why would they _exterminate_ you?”

“Knew Galra were losing war,” she said simply.  “Wanted to destroy weapon before weapon destroyed _Galra…”_

Lance hated how accepting she was of it.  As if it were normal for entire races to be wiped out, written out of history.  For families to be torn apart.  Like this was just the way things had always been.  

And...and yet it _had_ for her, hadn't it?  Zarkon's reign of terror had gone on for thousands of years. 

Lance had never thought much about the aftermath of the war.  He'd figured Voltron would win, and the planets would be free from the Galra, and everything would go back to how it'd been.

But it was clear to him now that war had left deep scars across every galaxy.  No life had been untouched. 

And victory alone wouldn't heal those wounds. 

“Lox, I’m so sorry.”

She looked at him curiously. “Why sorry?”

Lance opened his mouth, and he closed it again. “I guess...I just feel like Voltron should have stopped that from happening to your people.”

She placed her hand on his arm, and Lance was startled by how cold her skin was.  “Can’t fix past," she said.  "Past is tool.  Tool to fix _future_."  She tilted her head at the other end of the cockpit, where stars flew past them in streaks of white.  "Eyes forward, yes?"

Lance felt the edges of his mouth pull up.  "Right.  Eyes forward."

 

* * *

 

When Lox had retired to her tent for the night, Lance brought out the bottle of whiskey Marco had smuggled into his bag, and Shiro put his face in his hand. 

“Lance, no.”

“Lance, _yes_.”

“Why did you even bring that?  Do you know what alcohol does to your blood in sp—“

Lance had already popped off the lid and took a swig, staring Shiro dead in the eye as he did so.  He smacked his lips.  “Come on, Shiro.  If you keep thinking about Keith and Adam your brain is going to explode.  Just…take a break with me.”

Shiro rolled his eyes, but he didn’t protest as Lance joined him next to the campfire.  And, to Lance’s surprise, Shiro accepted the bottle when Lance pushed it into his chest. 

The paladin took a shot, wincing a little at the burn.  Lance smiled.

They sat in the glow and heat of the flames, a comfortable silence filling the night.   Lance had missed this.  The roadtrips. The adventures. 

Shiro.

His _friends_.

He couldn’t wait to see everyone again.  Pidge and her unimpressed faces, Hunk and his restaurant, Coran’s outrageous verbiage and personality.   Romelle's improper use of the English language.  Krolia's cheekiness. 

And Allura.

Because Lance had come to realize he’d loved Allura, but only half of her.   When he'd tried to think of her flaws, he _couldn’t_.  She was perfect in his eyes.  She probably always would be.  And that had said everything. 

You couldn't truly love someone until you’d seen _all_ of them.  Their best traits _and_ their ugliest.

So he was excited to see her again, to see how their relationship could develop now that Lance knew what he wanted.  He had a feeling they could become something stronger now. 

Now, the two of them, with their combined hope and passion, could become something Voltron desperately needed. 

“I should have convinced you to come with us last year," Shiro said suddenly, and Lance glanced at him in surprise.

“What are you talking about?”

Shiro sighed.  “I just...I could tell you wanted to stay in Cuba, and I didn’t want to make things harder on you.  But I should have still _tried_.  I should have told you how much you meant to us, how important you were.  I _should_ have made that clear to you over the course of our time in space.  I’m sorry, Lance.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Shiro, stop.  You have nothing to be sorry for.  You’re exactly right—it would have made things so much harder.  I _needed_ that time on the ground.  I’m glad you let me go,” he said, and he meant it. He felt…stronger now, almost like Earth had given him a second wind, a lighter heart, a clearer mind.   “And besides, it’s not like you needed me around.  You all wiped out the enemy just fine on your own.”

Shiro looked like he wanted to protest, but Lance didn’t want to hear it.  He’d heard Shiro’s sentiments before, and they hadn’t made a difference.  They both knew Lance wasn’t vital to the team.  And that was _okay_. 

It was a _relief_ that they’d been able to defeat the Galra without him. 

“I have a question,” Lance said, hoping to draw the topic away from his past.  “Why did Keith go by himself all the way to the third quadrant? Why didn’t the two of you go together to deal with the threat?  Doesn’t seem like you to let him do that alone.”

Shiro swallowed another gulp of the whiskey, letting it settle for a few seconds before he answered.  “We’d…gotten into a fight.  He didn’t want me around.  Took off before I could stop him.”

Lance raised his brows.  Keith and Shiro never fought.  Never over anything big.  They were always mutually supportive.  “What kind of fight?”

Shiro took a few moments to think up his response, which only intrigued Lance further.  “Black and I were having…communication issues,” Shiro began, running his thumb over the glass surface of the bottle, back and forth. “He was impatient.  He wasn’t listening the way he used to.   I realized he must have wanted Keith back, that he was unsatisfied with the new team dynamic.  I also think he could tell I wanted to go back home and figure things out with Adam…that I wasn’t the same levelheaded leader I’d once been.  Regardless, my disconnect with the team was causing problems, especially when trying to form Voltron.”  He breathed out. “So I tried to get Keith to step up as the leader, to take up the mantle as the Black Paladin.  Of course, he refused.  He was worried that if I stepped down, I would leave the team, and that if he stepped _up_ , we’d be short a Red Paladin.”  His eyes lifted to Lance.  “We thought…we thought the lions might be telling us to get you back.”

Lance gaped.  “ _Me_?”

Why would the lions have wanted _Lance_ back when they had _Shiro_?

That just didn’t make any sense.

“Lance…I don’t think you realize it, but without you...this team fell apart,” Shiro said, his eyes deep and sincere.  “I wasn’t enough to keep everyone together, especially once we’d defeated the Galra.  We just weren’t the same without you.  Something was _missing_.”

“We both know that’s not true,” Lance dismissed quickly, feeling his throat start to close up.   He looked away from Shiro’s piercing gaze.   “The team still would have fallen apart if I was there.  I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t think so,” Shiro insisted.  “I know you don’t think you were essential to Voltron, to saving the universe, and…maybe you weren’t.  But you _were_ essential to our team, Lance.  To our group dynamic, our friendship.  The lions knew it, and so did we.” 

“I…” Lance swallowed.   Had his absence truly affected the team _that_ much?  Half of the time he'd felt _invisible._ “I didn’t think you guys…needed me.”

Shiro shook his head, smiling.  “Honestly, Lance? I don’t think _any_ of us knew just how much we needed you.  Except maybe Keith,” he reflected, and Lance felt his heart clench around the echo of the boy’s name. “But suddenly you were gone, and there was no one around to break the ice on a bad day.  There was no one to look at things from an upside-down angle.  Things were just a lot more...intense without you."

Lance must have looked skeptical, because Shiro pressed on. 

"Pidge was…less _Pidge_.  She didn’t have anyone to tease, and she missed you a lot, but she internalized it.  When she shut down, Hunk had no one to bounce ideas off of.  So he started to recede too, leaving to visit Shay more often.  Allura and I became _too_ entrenched in the battle.  We didn’t have any _distractions_ ,” Shiro joked, and Lance tried to laugh, but his chest hurt too much.   “With all of us off doing our own things, Coran and Romelle were left isolated.  So they began planning the trip to the Altean planet.  And Keith…”

Lance watched Shiro’s expression adopt something like frustration.  

“Keith was the most affected, and I think he shifted the balance the most.  In a lot of ways, it felt as if he were still with the Blade.  We hardly saw him.  And when we did, he was all business.  Closed off.”

Lance knew how Keith behaved when he was upset, so the distance wasn't surprising.  The fact that _Lance_ had been the catalyst _was._  

Had he really been responsible for the team going their separate ways?  He’d really been the glue keeping everyone together?

He’d never thought he’d be the _undoing_ of Voltron.  Not like this.

“Shiro, I’m sorry,” Lance said earnestly.  “I didn’t realize my leaving would tear the team apart.” 

If anything, he'd thought it would benefit the team.  If Lance had left with them for space, he would have been unhappy again, _homesick,_ and his misery would have led to a plethora of problems.   Especially if he'd gone without a _lion—_ he'd felt useless enough already _with_ Red.  Without any way to contribute, he'd have just brought the rest of the team down.  

He'd thought he'd been doing everyone a _favor._

Shiro placed his hand on Lance’s shoulder.  “It wasn’t your fault, Lance.  It was _mine_.  And I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel guilty.  I’m telling you this because I want you to understand how important you are.  That you weren’t just a _substitute_. Okay?”

Lance nodded numbly, and he took a long, scorching sip of the bourbon.  

_Important, huh?_

He hiccuped, blinking into the bright flames of the fire.  “So…what happened when you realized the lions might have wanted me to come back?  Why did Keith run away?”

Shiro stole the bottle back, but Lance had a feeling it was more cautionary than greedy.  “We knew you didn’t want to pilot Red anymore…that you weren’t coming back, so we were having a bit of a crisis trying to figure out what to do next,” he admitted.   “Pidge suggested we go recruit a new Red Paladin, since the lion wouldn’t accept me as Keith’s replacement. And Keith sort of went…berserk.  He didn’t want to lead.  He didn’t want me to step down.  He _really_ didn’t want a new Red Paladin.  His anger threw the rest of the team into an upheaval.  It was Hunk who finally asked the big question—did we even really _need_ Voltron anymore?”

Lance could imagine the scene unfolding before him—everyone talking over each other only for Hunk’s gentle reasoning to push through the noise.  Causing everyone to fall silent in shock.

“That was the turning point.  The doubts started to fester, and no one really…no one wanted to stick together.  We didn’t have a goal anymore.  So everyone was pulled in different directions.  And I didn’t do anything, Lance.”

“ _Shiro_ , I’m sure you tried your best.”

Shiro shook his head.  “But…I didn’t.  I _agreed_ with Hunk.  There was no reason for us to travel around together in space, looking for trouble.   The universe was free again.  So were we.  And in my mind, I kept thinking that this time around, I could finally go back to Earth…and I could be with _Adam_.   I let us fall apart. I failed the team, Lance.”

Lance waved his arms back and forth dramatically, turning to face Shiro fully.  “Stop it, man.  Seriously. You’re the best leader I’ve ever met, probably the best the universe has ever had!  You were _meant_ for this job.  We never would have survived without you.”  Lance gazed at his friend, lifting his shoulder.  “It’s okay to be tired. You did so much for us. It’s okay to want to move on with your life.  You’re practically an old man, anyway.”

Shiro chuckled, softening at Lance's praise.  “Thanks, Lance...I guess."  Lance grinned.  "Unfortunately...Keith didn’t feel that way.  After Voltron broke up, he was angry with me for trying to force my position on him.  I wasn’t going to leave him alone up in space, but he knew part of me wanted to.  And he started to pull away again. You know how he is.”

Lance nodded, his eyes dipping to the ground.  “I know.”

“The last time we talked was right before he left for the Eridanus Cluster.  I told him to be careful.  And he said…he said if anything happened to him, at least he’d be off my hands.  At least I could go live my life the way I wanted, without some kid to look after.  He took off before I could stop him.”

Lance's heart ached for Shiro.  Part of him wanted to assure him that Keith was just upset, that he didn't really mean those things.  But...sometimes humor was the best comfort. 

Lance scoffed, rolling his eyes.  “God. Keith's one dramatic hoe, isn’t he?”

Shiro barked out a laugh, taking a final swig of alcohol.  “He does have a flare for dramatic exits.”

They sat there for a few moments, stomachs warm, minds fuzzy.  Lance was glad he’d come. Not just for Keith’s sake, but for Shiro’s. He’d needed a friend up here to help him through this.  Lance was glad to be that person. 

“So…when we get him back...what will you do?” Lance asked quietly, his lips and tongue clinging to his words. 

Shiro set the bottle down between them, near-empty.  “I guess it depends.  What will _you_ do, Lance?”

 

* * *

  

"You’re sure he’s there?" Shiro asked, inching closer to the dusty red planet.

"Positive," Lox assured him.    

Lance couldn't even watch. He was going to be sick from all this anxiety.  

He'd been doing just fine these last two weeks.  But...but now it was real.  It was _happening._  

He busied himself by suiting up in the space gear Shiro had purchased.   It was mostly recycled Coalition gear, along with a few stolen Galra accessories. In other words, none of it matched, none of it fit him right, and it was totally _not_ flattering. 

Lance adjusted the breastplate over his chest and stretched his fingers in the dark purple gloves, looking at himself in the reflection of Black's sheet metal.  His snug helmet made his hair stick to the sides of his face.  The laser gun on his hip was pathetically small and unimpressive.  

He looked ridiculous.

"Lance, stop ogling at yourself.  We're pulling up our target."

Lance huffed.  "I am _not—"_

_Whatever._

So he was concerned about his appearance, okay?  This was the first time Keith was going to see him in _years._ He just...he didn't want to look _stupid._  

Lance moved to stand beside Lox, and Shiro brought up an aerial image of the location the Invenian had pinpointed.  He zoomed in closer, and Lance's eyes widened at the pixelated shapes filling the screen.

On a stretch of red sand were thousands of fighter jets and warships. 

 _Galra_  ships.

A whole fleet of empty vessels just sitting here on an unknown planet at the edge of the universe. 

Lance's gut plummeted.  "I thought you'd taken out—"

"We did," Shiro said hoarsely, staring at the field intensely. "This shouldn't be here. We disarmed every battalion. We were thorough."

Lance watched the robotic sentries roam the dunes, standing guard over the fleet.   "Looks like one general slipped through your fingers. A general with a _lot_ of resources."

Lox leaned over Shiro and moved the screen to the right, revealing a chain of small buildings and warehouses.  She double clicked on the largest building, and the camera zoomed in.  Dozens of guards lined the entrance.   

"Here," she breathed, confident. "Your king is here."

Lance swallowed.  Keith was _here?_   

He'd been held prisoner by _Galra_ all this time?

Lance hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't this.  

Shiro was stock still, staring at the building in disbelief.  In horror and pain and _guilt._  

Lance could see his leader already spiraling down that slippery slope of undeserving self-blame. 

In Shiro's mind, he'd allowed Voltron to dissolve. He and the Blade had declared the war over.   But the threat hadn't been eradicated, and this blindspot had led to Keith's disappearance and...and possibly, to his _death._  

If Keith _was_ alive, Shiro knew better than anyone what being a Galran captive entailed.  And perhaps Keith was not much better off.

With a rigid silence, Shiro gripped the stick and pushed Black onward, down to the surface.   

"Plan?" Lox asked curiously.  

Lance tore his gaze from the Black Paladin to Lox and her dark, reflective eyes.  "You and Shiro stay in the lion.  Blue and I go in and get Keith and teleport back here before anyone notices."

She cocked her head. "Just you two?"

"We don't know if Red is here or not.  If he's not, that means we need to make a quick getaway, so Black has to be ready to take off at any moment," he explained.   He'd hesitated to tell Shiro about his failure to connect with the lion for days—he hadn't wanted to upset him, to deepen the lines in his brow.  But it had soon become evident that Lance could not track Red.  He couldn't even remotely _sense_ him. Without Lox, they never would have made it this far.   "If I'm not out in ten, Shiro will create a diversion and draw out the guards."

"Diversion?"

"Basically, he'll start blasting things apart to distract the sentries while I find Keith."

Shiro wore a grim expression as he guided Black to the ground, just out of sight of the military base.  "Lance, we weren't expecting Galra.  The stakes are much higher now."

Lance shrugged. "I was expecting evil alien pirates or a giant space monster or something. Fighting the Galra is easy. We've done this plenty of times."

"You haven't even shot a gun in three years.  Going in alone could get you killed.”

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Shiro.  Really uplifting."

Shiro didn't crack. He was a ball of tension.  "Lance, maybe we should come up with a better strategy, send for backup.  We don't know how many sentries there are.  We could be running straight into a trap."

Lance shook his head. "Normally I'd agree with you on this, Shiro. But we can't wait anymore. This is _Keith_ we're talking about."

"That's _exactly_ why we need to think this through."

Shiro folded his arms over his chest, unyielding, and Lox glanced between them nervously.

Lance sighed, meeting Shiro's dark, determined eyes. "Shiro, I need you to trust me.  I'm _going_ to get Keith out of there.  I'm going to bring him back.  I can _do_ this."

Lance didn't think Shiro was going to budge, but then he closed his eyes, releasing a defeated breath.  "...I don't like this."

"Me neither.  But this might be our only chance to save Keith."

Shiro nodded slowly.   "Okay. Just...be careful."

Lance dipped his chin.  "You too."

Lance turned to Blue, who paced back and forth, whining.  "Do you smell him, boy?  Can you take me to him?”

The wolf's nose twitched, and he wagged his tail. Impatient. 

“Lance.  We don't have a way to communicate," Shiro reminded him.  "If something goes wrong, get out of there, Keith or no Keith, understood?"

Lance crouched beside Blue, his palms tingling.  "I'm _getting_ Keith."

"Lance—"

"See you in ten."

He gripped Blue's mane, and the world around him vanished. 

 

* * *

 

The flash of light faded, and Lance opened his eyes to a solid metal door.   It glowed crimson from the red light trimming the ceiling. There were no handles. 

To his left and right were blank walls of a similar style.  

The architecture of a Galra _prison._

Blue instantly darted through Lance's legs to the back of the cell, and Lance turned slowly, holding his breath.  

His gaze fell on the figure in the corner, and his heart climbed up his throat.

The young man sat in his black under-armor, wrists chained above his head to the metal of his cell, head stooped. 

His pallor was gray like a corpse, exposed skin covered in dried blood.  His hair was shorter than Lance remembered—as if it had been hacked off six months ago and was only now beginning to hug his ears and the back of his neck again.  His bangs fell over his forehead, but they didn’t quite reach his eyes.

His mullet was gone.

.

_Keith._

_._

He was here. 

He was frail and broken and Lance…fuck, Lance couldn’t even tell if he was _breathing_.

Blue whined, sniffing Keith’s knee, nudging him with his wet nose, but Keith didn’t stir.

The beast looked to Lance, helpless and confused, ears flat against his head, and Lance remembered his motor functions.  He moved mechanically, kneeling at his friend’s side, touching his leg. He was _cold_. 

Lance tore off his helmet so his shaky breaths stopped fogging up the glass.  “Keith…?”

Nothing.

_Nothing._

Panicking, Lance quickly zapped the chains with his gun, and Keith’s hands fell to his lap, his whole body slumping over like a puppet without strings. 

Lance caught Keith’s limp form in his arms, feeling the cold pain tear at his throat.  The dread.

"Keith..."

Silence.

_No, no, no, no…_

Lance gripped at the pale boy, staring down at his closed eyes, the blood caking the left half of his face.  He shook him, _desperate._   

_"Keith."_

This wasn’t _fair._  

They’d come so far…

Lance still had so much to tell him...

Blue licked Keith's cheek, wagging his tail, burrowing into him, and finally— _finally_ —a muscle twitched in Keith's face.

It sucked all the air out of Lance's lungs, and he almost dropped the paladin in shock. 

Keith breathed out, weakly swatting at Blue, and Lance thought he might burst into tears. 

Keith exhaled again, pushing an ecstatic Blue away more firmly, and his eyes slowly opened, revealing the softest shades of violet Lance had ever seen.   He focused on Lance, and his brow furrowed in confusion.   “…Lance?”

Lance released a choked sob.  “ _Hey_ , _buddy_.”

Keith's eyes wandered, taking in his surroundings. “Are we dead?”

“I fucking _hope_ not,” Lance breathed. He placed his hand on Keith’s cool cheek and wiped away at the blood, attempting to convey that this was real, that Lance was tangible.  “You’re _alive,_ Keith.  And we’re getting you out of here.”

Keith gazed up at him, his eyelids heavy, his lips chapped.  He was weak, barely clinging to consciousness, and Lance suspected Keith still thought he was dreaming. 

“You look…older." Keith squinted, tilting his head slightly. "Did you...pierce your ears?”

The tears gathered in Lance's eyes, and he beamed. “Sexy, huh?”

"...Kind of gay..."

Lance snorted, clutching tight to the paladin. "Just a bit."  

Keith's mouth curved upward, and he closed his eyes.

                                                          

 

It was so... _soft._   

So soft and heartbreaking and tragic and  _fuck,_  Lance wanted to pull him in close and hug him for _hours._  But they didn't have time for that.

Shiro was counting on him to get Keith out of here.   And Keith...Keith was going to be no help at all. He was completely out of it.

Lance wondered how long it’d been since he’d been given food and water.  It looked like he’d been abandoned here, left to die with an army of droids.

“Okay, Keith.  Blue's gonna take us out of here."   Lance draped Keith’s arm over his shoulder and rose to a crouch, murmuring a soft, “ _Easy_.”  Keith leaned into him entirely, resting his forehead in the nook of Lance’s neck.

Swallowing, Lance wrapped his arm around Keith’s slim waist, finding reassurance in Keith’s shallow breath against his collarbone. 

Lance had to take a moment to compose himself. 

Keith was _alive_. 

He was okay. He was making jokes.  He was _breathing_. 

This was really happening.  

They were taking Keith home.

“I didn’t tell him,” Keith murmured into his skin, half-conscious.  “I didn’t tell him anything.”

Lance felt his stomach drop, his suspicions confirmed.  

Keith hadn't just been a prisoner here. He'd been _tortured_.  

“Who?” Lance asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice, his anger.  “Who did this to you, Keith?”  Which of these fuckers did Lance need to kill?

A tired exhale. "... _Lotor.”_

. 

_....What?_

.

Lance's incredulous gaze swept over Keith again.   “Lotor’s _alive_? _”_   His eyes widened. "Is he  _here?"_

“No,” Keith said, lashes fluttering as he struggled to stay awake.  “He left six days ago.  He’s…gone mad. Absorbed too much quintessence.  He’s going after _Earth,_ Lanc _e."_  Keith gripped at Lance’s space suit tightly, words rushing out of his mouth like he was afraid he might not get the chance to say it all.  “He wants to sap Earth’s quintessence.  He…he wanted to know about the Garrison’s defense….our weapons.  And he kept me here because without Red…”

“Without Red, there’s no Voltron,” Lance answered numbly. 

Lotor had _tortured_ Keith. 

Lotor.  Who they’d long presumed dead.   Who they'd _trusted_ once upon a time.

The deranged prince had tried to pry answers out of the one person who would never break, even if it killed him.

"Wait," Lance blinked back his tears, "are you saying that Red's _here?_   In this complex?"

Keith nodded tiredly.  "He's battery dead.  Chained up.  Lotor drained his energy."

Shit. 

That complicated things. 

"Alright.  _Okay..."_   Lance bit his cheek, formulating a plan.  "Keith, take Blue back to Shiro.  He's waiting in Black just over the hill.  I'll go look for Red." 

He tried to untangle himself from Keith, but Keith gripped tight to his armor, refusing.  "Then what?" Keith murmured. "Leave you by yourself? With no way out?"

Lance rolled his eyes.  Even as a delirious sack of bones, Keith was still contentious.   _"Red's_ my way out, dummy."

"He's out of power, Lance.  I can't even... _feel_ him."

That made Lance pause. "What do you mean you can't f—"

Above them, the ceiling _ruptured,_  the metal shrieking as a wall of fire came crashing down around them.  Lance didn't have time to think.  He tackled Keith and Blue to the ground, shielding them from the debris. 

Blue instantly teleported them to the corridor outside the cell, and when the dust settled, Lance turned to stare at the remains of the smoking fighter jet, its nose lodged through the roof of the prison. 

It had crashed just _inches_ from where they'd been sitting. 

Lance's gaze shot to the hole in the ceiling and the pale sky above them.  

_Shiro._

Galra ships swarmed the Black Lion, chasing its tail as the lion zipped away, destroying the fleet of fighter jets below him.  Robot sentries on the ground scattered for cover, shooting up at the lion pathetically.  

Lance had surpassed his ten minute mark.

"Did...Shiro just try to kill us?" Keith muttered.

"He's buying us time."

Lance helped Keith off the floor, and Keith slumped onto him heavily, not an ounce of strength left in his body. 

With Shiro in fighter pilot mode, Lance figured Keith was safer on the ground with him.   Which meant the two of them needed to find their lion before Shiro was overwhelmed.

"Alright Red,” Lance whispered, focusing on the psychic link he'd once shared with his lion, closing his eyes.  “It’s been a long time.  But we both need you now, more than ever.  Wake up, buddy.  _Please_.”

He tried to sense his lion's pulse, to rediscover that bond between them.  But the line was as dead as ever. 

_"Dammit."_

Keith tugged on his armor, exasperated.  "He's not _awake,_ Lance.  He can't come to us. We have to go to _him."_

Lance finally caught on, stitching together Keith's revelations. "That's...that's why I haven't been able to sense him?  Because his quintessence is gone?"

Keith nodded, and Lance released a loaded breath. 

The problem was on the receiving end then, not on Lance.

That shouldn't have made him feel better. 

But it did. 

"Alright, Blue," Lance decided, explosions sounding off in the distance. "Take us on a tour."

 

* * *

 

It took several attempts.  

The first place they'd teleported had about two dozen droids in the room. Gaping, Lance had yanked Blue's tail and gotten them _right the fuck_ out of there.

They checked every warehouse, every room, but Red was nowhere to be found.   Keith was growing heavy against Lance's side, his arm slipping from Lance's neck as he faded.

On the sixth attempt, Blue brought them to a large garage.   It was open at one end, red dust billowing across the entrance, and it reminded Lance of the hangars back at the Garrison. 

Except for the giant fucking _robot_ in the middle of the facility. 

Lance stared, heartbroken. 

_Red..._

The lion lay before them, shackled and bound in heavy metal ribbons. 

Eyes dark to the world. 

Lance felt bile in his throat, and his chest churned with anger. 

Red didn't _belong_ in chains.  He was a wild, tameless spirit.  Fiery and speedy.  This confinement, this lifelessness...it was a juxtaposition Lance had seen too much of today.

The next time Lance saw Lotor, he was going to rip the space prince and his long, shiny hair to _shreds._  

Two guards emerged from the back of the room, and Lance snatched his laser gun out of its holster and blasted the droids before they'd even raised their weapons.

_Ha. Take that Shiro._

Three years off and Lance was _still_ on top of his game.

Keith suddenly crumpled beside him, and Lance caught him around the waist, guiding him to the foot of the lion and setting him down against Red's shackled paw.  The paladin murmured an apology, half-gone and going. 

Lance wasn't exactly sure what was wrong with Keith, but this weakened state terrified him.  They needed to hurry.

Lance swallowed, turning his attention back to his lion.  "Hey, Red...it's me..."

He stepped closer, running his hand over the lion's muzzle.   Closing his eyes.  

How could he rescue a robot that wasn't... _charged?_

He didn't have any quintessence to offer. 

...Did he?

“Red,” he pleaded.  “I know you're in there.  You've got to wake up."

Lance could hear the Black Lion wreaking havoc outside the hangar.  Energy blasts and explosive impacts. The _pow pow_ of the Galra ships.  Behind him, Blue paced back and forth, whining nervously.  He must have heard sentries approaching.

Lance tuned it all out, running his hand over the cool metal, a gentle caress.  "Red...I’m sorry for leaving. I'm sorry I let this happen to you.  I should have been there.  But I'm here _now."_

Lance knew that Red's power core was depleted. 

But he also knew his lion was so much more than a machine.  Even when his battery was dead, there was something there.  Something sentient.   Lance was sure of that now.

"Red, _please,"_ Lance begged, opening his teary eyes and staring into the hollow headlights above him.  "We’ll talk this over later.  I’ll do a full maintenance check and everything.  I’ll clean out the cockpit.  I’ll polish and wax your coat—you’ll be sparkling for days, okay? Alright?  For now, please just wake up. I _need_ you to wake up.  I _need_ you.”

At first there was nothing, just the same cold absence.     

But then Lance felt it.

The thrum of a _motor._  

Beneath the pads of his gloved fingers, he felt an engine stir. He felt the metal warm under his palm, vibrating like the hood of a car. 

Lance stared, an incredulous grin pulling at his lips. 

Then Blue growled viciously, and Lance whirled around.

A mass of sentries was headed straight for the open end of the hangar, running quickly, guns in hand.  Too many for Lance to even count.

Shit.  

Lance wasn't sure what their orders were, but he had a feeling securing the Red Lion was their first priority.  Lotor wanted to keep Red out of Voltron's hands at all costs.   

And if that meant exterminating the paladins of Voltron? 

So be it.

Lance squared up, placing himself in front of Keith, in front of his lion.  Blue's hair rose in bristles beside him, the beast ready to pounce on their enemies. Steadying his breath, Lance raised his gun, closing one eye. 

He wouldn't be able to take down a whole squad on his own.

But he'd sure as hell die trying.

He pulled the trigger, and the closest sentry fell to the ground. 

Two. 

Three down. 

Blue vanished and reappeared at the front lines, ripping into the droids, clawing through wires, teeth sinking into hardware, vanishing before the bots could even touch him.

Four. 

Five.

Lance didn't miss a single shot, but he struggled to keep up.  For every droid he shot down, another took its place, running full speed ahead. 

It wasn't enough.  The _gun_ wasn't enough. 

Lance spared a panicked glance at Keith. He lay on his side, eyes closed, hands clenched.   Behind him, a lion of stone.

The sight of them together brought sudden clarity to the chaos around him, and Lance froze.  

Keith. 

The Red  _Paladin._  

Shit. Of _course._

It had to be here.  Locked away somewhere in the complex.  

Running with a current.

Lance crouched in front of Keith, activating his gauntlet's energy shield as several laser blasts shot past his head.  He tossed his gun aside, closing his eyes.

_Come on, come on, come on...._

_Where are you?_

His shield shuddered against the onslaught of firepower, his heels slipping on the concrete. 

And then he saw the flash of red light through his eyelids. 

And he _felt_ it.  

The perfect weight in his hand.  A familiar grip in his palm.  A weapon.  A _tool._   

Lance stared down at the Red Bayard in his hand, the red aura fading around it.

He'd...

He'd _summoned_ his bayard.  He'd willed it into existence.  Through time and space.

He was _so_ going to brag about this later.

A laser beam seared past him, grazing his cheek, and Lance's eyes snapped back to the droids and the matter at hand. 

He flicked his wrist, and the bayard instantly converted into his energy blaster, as if it recognized Lance and the peril he was in.  As if it knew Lance wouldn't have it any other way. 

"Hell yeah," Lance laughed, aiming for the sentries.  Pulling the trigger and tearing them to _pieces._  

The soldiers stopped short, rearing back at the rate of their _annihilation._    

Lance grinned at the adrenaline flooding his veins, turning him into the person he'd missed these last three years. The hero.  The sharpshooter.  The _paladin._  

The droids abandoned their advance, raising their own weapons to fight back collectively.  To concentrate their energy blasts on Lance and Keith.  All at once.

Oh.

_Fuck._

Just as lance erected his shield again, bracing for imminent death, he heard a low, guttural _roar._  

The roar of an angry lion.

The firepower that would have vaporized his shield and then Lance himself was immediately deflected by the glowing tip of a lion's tail. 

Lance turned around with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Red’s eyes glowed a murderous yellow, and he strained against the metal belts, buckling the concrete beneath Lance's feet.  The droids stepped back cautiously, watching the lion's joints _steam_ as Red cranked his thrusters.  

Red was taking _off._

Lance lunged for Keith and dragged him out of the way just as the lion broke through its confines, shooting bolts and shrapnel in every direction.  Torching the earth beneath him.

Lance pumped his fist in the air.  _"Yes!"_

The lion roared again, shaking his head as if he were ridding itself of phantom chains.  He twisted his head, cracking joints, stretching muscles.  

Then without warning, he flicked his tail around and knocked the sentries out like bowling pins.  They lay unmoving on the ground, glitching and sparking corpses. 

Seemingly satisfied, Red bent low and opened his mouth for the paladins to ascend the ramp.

"Red, you're one fine piece of ass. You know that?"

Lance felt Keith's choked laughter against his shoulder as he carried him aboard.  He set Keith down in the cockpit, Blue curling up next to him, refusing to leave his side.  Probably never would after this.

Lance almost broke down when the lion straightened, ready for command.  A mix of feelings passed between them over their link, as if Red too had missed their connection and was desperate to fill Lance in.

_Happiness. Grief.  Anger.  Resolve._

_I know, buddy,_ Lance thought back _. Me too._

Lance dropped down into the pilot’s seat, sad to see the dust on his controls, nostalgia washing over him as he took the stick in his hands.  

_Relief. Trust._

_Love._

Lance's brows rose at the last one, and his cheeks warmed.  _Love you too, Red._

“Shiro,” Lance panted into Red’s comm, gripping the stick to turn the lion around. “I got him.”

“Thank god. Is he okay?” Shiro rushed out.

“He’s alive."  Lance glanced back at Keith’s bloody body.  “He needs some medical attention."

"Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

Lance’s fingers moved unconsciously for the controls, his muscle memory taking over.  He grinned.  “You heard him, Red.  Let's bounce.”

The lion shot out of the hangar and into the sky, leaving the prison far behind them.  

  

* * *

 

Lance lay draped over Keith’s pod, half-asleep. 

He'd been relieved to learn that the team had built healing pods in the cargo hold of each lion.  Now they could treat their wounded away from the castle if need be. 

And Keith needed treatment very, very badly.

He’d passed out in Red, and when they’d landed on an uninhabited planet to reconvene, Shiro had almost broken down at the state of his brother. 

Today marked the fifth day Keith had been in the pod, and while his scans showed remarkable recovery...they'd also drawn a pretty gruesome picture of what Keith had been through.

The scans revealed serious nerve damage—likely a symptom of the druid's favorite torture method.  The bones in his legs and fingers had been broken and repaired several times over.  He'd been malnourished and seriously dehydrated.  

And that was just the physical stuff.   

Lance had no idea where Keith's head was.

Sure, he'd seemed relatively normal—joking around, arguing with Lance—but he'd also been half-awake and barely functioning.  When reality hit, who would take his place?

Shiro had sent word to Pidge, Hunk, and Krolia to let them know Keith had been found, and they'd all decided to meet up shortly.  For now, Lance and Shiro had agreed to wait until Keith emerged from the pod to assess his mental health, to give him enough time to recover.  

Lance had also insisted Shiro keep his presence a secret from the others. He wanted to surprise them when they all convened at Hunk's restaurant.  He wanted to save up all the tears and laughs for a proper reunion.

Of course, Lance had still listened in on the call, and he'd almost lost it when he'd heard his friend's voices.  Their joy at the news.  Their awe at Keith's rescue.  

Their crippling concern over Keith had pierced Lance right through the heart. 

Even as a team divided, they all loved each other senseless. 

Lance was just starting to doze off when he heard a distinct chime. 

Before he could comprehend what was happening, the pane beneath him dissolved, and he was falling face-first into Keith’s chest.

“Ah!” He stumbled back, bouncing to his feet.

Keith blinked up at him through bleary eyes.  “...Lance?”

God, he looked _so_ much better. 

Color had returned to his cheeks, the blood gone from his face—courtesy of Shiro. The nutrients from his IV had already improved his muscle mass, though he was still skinnier than Lance had ever seen him.   He also looked older, but Lance suspected that had more to do with the haircut and his sunken cheeks than anything.

Lance smiled gently and leaned over the side of the pod, gripping Keith’s shoulder. “Hey. Welcome back.”

Keith winced, reaching up to clutch his head, and Lance helped him into a sitting position.  “You good?”

“Yeah,” Keith managed.  “Just…exhausted.”

“Five days not enough sleep for you?”

Keith huffed, closing his eyes. “Apparently not.”

Lance's grin faltered, and he swallowed.  “Come on.  Let’s get you out of that pod.”

Nodding, Keith latched onto Lance as he pulled him out. His bare feet touched the metal floor, and he sighed, releasing Lance to stand on his own.  

For a moment, Keith simply stared at Lance, taking him in. Assessing.  

“You’re really here,” he said.  “I thought I’d been dreaming.”

Lance smiled a little, not sure what to say.  “I’m here.  I’m just sorry it took so long.”

 _Too_ long.

“...How long has it been on Earth?”

Lance gazed back at those blue-gray eyes, wondering what thoughts they harbored.  “Three years.” 

 _Three years since you kissed me and vanished_ , he thought.  _Three years since you turned my life upside down._

Or right-side up, depending on how you looked at it. 

Keith’s thick brows shot high on his forehead.  He looked away, then back at Lance.  “And...how long since you heard from us?”

“About a year.  And then nothing until a few weeks ago, when Shiro showed up at my door asking for my help.”

Keith’s face softened, and his eyes lifted.  “You came for me?”

Lance blinked in confusion. 

What, did Keith think Lance had just been randomly roaming the edges of the universe or something?   Came across him by sheer luck? 

“Of course I came for you,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets to curb the temptation to pull Keith into his arms. “I would have come sooner if I’d known.”

Something flickered over Keith’s face, an emotion Lance couldn’t identify.   He looked down again, brow furrowed.

Silence stretched between them, on and on, and Lance couldn’t _take_ it.  Jessica had been right—there was tension between them, heavy with the unsaid.

“Keith…I’m sorry,” he breathed sadly, wishing there was a better word to sum up everything he was feeling right now.  “I’m sorry for what happened to the team. For what happened to _you_.”

Keith shook his head. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“If I’d been there—”

“Lance.  I don’t blame you for what happened to me,” he said, gaze hardening. “I’m alive, aren’t I?  Red’s back.  Lotor didn’t get the information he wanted.  Everything’s _fine.”_

“How is everything _fine_? You were captured.  You were held captive for _months_ , Keith.” 

 _What did they do to you?_  Lance wanted to ask.  _How badly did they hurt you?  How can I make you better?_

Keith crossed his arms over his chest, raising his defenses, and it was so entirely  _Keith_ that Lance couldn’t help but grin a little.  

Fuck, he’d missed this emotionally stunted jackass.

Lance cleared his throat.  “Um...Shiro will want to know you’re awake.  Do you want me to go get him?”

Keith turned, leaning against the pod, his knuckles white against the edge.  “I don’t really want to see him right now…”

Lance felt a pang of sadness.  He knew Keith had gone through shit, through things Lance couldn’t possibly imagine.  But Shiro had suffered too.  He'd suffered a unique kind of torture. 

“Keith…Shiro spent _months_ searching for you," Lance said.  "He _never_ gave up on you, even when it felt hopeless.”

Lance had never _seen_ Shiro so stressed and broken and hollow.  Losing Keith had torn him apart.

Still, Keith said nothing, refusing Lance eye contact. 

“After all this time you still won’t forgive him for wanting to go home to _Adam_?" Lance pushed.  "Are you seriously going to punish him for that?”

Keith tensed—he must not have realized just how _much_ Lance knew.  “That’s not it…I just…” He crushed his eyes close.

“What, then?”

Keith grimaced.  “Nothing.”

Lance shook his head. “No, tell me.  Why are you pushing Shiro away, Keith?”  He understood why Keith was acting weird around Lance, but Shiro deserved better. 

Keith's shoulders were taut, his back stiff, hands clenched.  “With Lotor back…that means the universe needs Voltron again.  It means the war isn’t over.  But...I don’t want to _be_ the Black Paladin, Lance.  Not if I have to hold this team together by myself, or if I have to go and find a new pilot for Red. I don’t want to do this _alone_.” He bent his head. “I _can’t_.”

_Oh._

Lance sighed, shaking his head.  “Well, you won’t have to.”

At this, Keith glanced back at him, dubious. “What?”

“You won’t have to do this alone.  I’m going to help you get the team back together.  And I’m going to help you defeat Lotor.  For real this time.”

This was his role now—fixing the mess he’d made.  Patching the holes he'd left.

Keith stared at him, eyebrows slanted upwards.  Confused.  Relieved.   _Uncertain._

“…And then?” Keith asked softly.  “What happens after we stop Lotor?”

Lance lifted a shoulder.  “I’m not sure after that.  I just know that I shouldn’t have left you in the middle of this war.  That wasn’t fair to you, to the team.” Lance took a deep breath. “So I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for leaving.  But...I  don't regret it.  I got to spend time with my family.  I got to feel like _myself_ again, Keith.  And I got to say goodbye this time.  Now I’m _ready_ to be here.”

He was ready to be a paladin again. 

“For now,” Keith said evenly.

Lance frowned, brows pinching together. “For now...”

Keith studied him for a beat, and then he drew away, moving for the door.  “I need to clean up.  Is there somewhere I can do that?”

It was a dismissal, and Lance was surprised by how much it _hurt._  

He managed a feeble grin.  “There’s a river outside.  It's safe—I swam in it yesterday."  He jerked his thumb upward.  "There’s a bag of clean clothes for you in the cockpit.”

Keith nodded and climbed up the ladder without another word.

Lance steadied himself against the wall.

_What…what had just happened?_

 

* * *

 

 That evening, Lance, Lox, and Shiro waited by the campfire for Keith to join them. 

Lance had told Shiro that Keith smelled like ass and wanted to clean himself up first. That he wanted a moment alone to collect himself.  He'd thought he'd been pretty convincing, but Shiro had sensed the lie in his words. 

"He's mad at me still," he'd said.  A statement, not a question. 

"He's...processing," Lance had answered, and Shiro deflated. 

An hour later, Keith appeared at the forest's edge in his old gray shirt and black jeans.  Hair wet. Skin clean.  

He stopped just short of camp, his gaze locking in on Shiro.

Shiro stood slowly, cautiously, like he was worried he might scare Keith away. 

_“Keith.”_

It was soft.  Soft and desperate.  

Shiro moved forward, and Keith retreated a step.  Body stiff.  Eyes dark and troubled. 

Pain claimed Shiro’s face, but he didn't give up.  He'd come this far.  What was another twenty feet?

He took another step forward, and this time Keith didn’t move. He stood frozen in place.  Panicking, because he obviously missed his brother—he'd probably thought he’d never see him again—panicking because he knew the moment he let Shiro in again, he'd have to accept Shiro's retirement.

Shiro walked forward, one step after another, until he stood directly before Keith. 

They stared at one another for a heartbeat, conveying a message deeper than any words could. 

Then Shiro closed the distance, yanking Keith into a hug and burying his face into the young man’s shoulder.

Lance watched as Keith slowly lifted his arms to hug Shiro back.  As Keith slowly melted into his brother, sinking into his embrace. 

Lance smiled, glancing over at Lox, whose midnight eyes had swelled with tears.  

Lance gaped at her.  "Lox? Are you okay?"

She chuckled, sniffling.  "Family is...net."

 _"Net?"_  

"Always catch us.  No matter what."

Lance smiled warmly, slinging an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his side.  

He watched Keith and Shiro finally break apart, wiping their eyes, laughing a little.   Keith smoothed his short hair out of his face, his gaze sweeping over the camp and finally landing on _Lance._  

Lance swallowed, staring back at him, waiting.

Waiting for the reunion he’d anticipated all along, with hugs and confessions and _something_ in Keith’s eyes that told him their connection wasn't really dead.  That their bond wasn't broken. 

Instead, Keith glanced away and bid Shiro goodnight. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing action scenes lmao.  
> I apologize if this chapter's a mess. I'll probably go back and clean it up a bit.
> 
>  
> 
> [Art here! ](http://gtgrandom.tumblr.com/post/178331314124/you-lookolder-keith-squinted-tilting-his-head)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy. We’re getting…closer? 
> 
> I’m so bad at predicting how long my stories are gonna be. I apologize if I dragged you all into this thinking it was going to be like 10 chapters max. Part of me wants to get it done, but I want to do it right. So here we are…with probably three chapters left after this? Maybe?
> 
> I can’t believe I reached 500 kudos. I NEVER anticipated this response. Thank you thank you thank you.
> 
> Enjoy!

Alarmed by Keith’s account of Lotor, Shiro had tried and failed to contact the Castle of Lions. 

But the Altean colony was still out of reach.   

Which presented a serious problem.

Without the Castle, getting back to Earth would take weeks, and Lotor could already _be_ there.  Which meant they would need to breach their radio silence with the Garrison to inform them of the peril Earth was in—but a message could take _months_ to arrive at this distance.

And even if the team rushed back to Earth to intercept Lotor, they couldn’t form Voltron without the Blue Lion…without Allura…

 "One step at a time," Lance told Shiro as they discussed their options. “We need to get the team together first.  That’s our number one priority.  Then we find a way to contact Earth.”

Shiro sighed, unsatisfied, but he nodded.  He looked Lance over worriedly.  “Have you talked to Keith?”

Lance crossed his arms and glared at the sheen of the Red Lion across camp.  He’d waxed and polished him relentlessly, finding the cleaning therapeutic.  Distracting.  “I tried…once.”

The last three days, Keith had slept long hours and kept to himself, hunkering down in Red.  He was avoiding Lance.  Avoiding _all_ of them.

Shiro had tried getting more out of him about his time with Lotor, but Keith played it off as nothing serious, just as he had before.   Apparently the druids had tortured him with their concentrated bouts of energy, but Keith never broke.  Haggar—very much alive—had made an appearance or two, but Keith's Blade of Marmora training had kept his mind sealed from her psychic assaults. 

Eventually, Lotor had grown too impatient and sailed off with his generals and close personnel, leaving Keith to die.

Keith claimed this summed up his experience pretty well.

Shiro was deeply perturbed by the revelations, and even more so at the fact Keith wasn’t telling them everything.  Shiro _knew_ it wasn’t that easy to bounce back from months of torture and isolation. 

Keith was holding back, maybe to spare Lance and Shiro the dark details, or maybe to spare his own mind from the recollection.  

Either way, he wasn't opening up.

Lance proposed getting everyone together in one place to bring a sense of normalcy back to Keith's life.  It was all they could for him right now.  Keith needed his friends.  His mother.  His _support._

And Lance…Lance couldn’t give him that. Not when Keith kept pushing him away.  Not when he refused to share the same room as Lance for more than ten minutes.  

Lance didn’t know _how_ to approach Keith anymore.  He’d thought it would be hard enough before, with their history, but now, after what Keith had gone through….he had no idea what to do.

Did he bring up all his feelings when Keith was still _recovering_?

It didn’t feel appropriate. Especially when Keith was clearly still mad at him for leaving the team.

They couldn't even hold a normal conversation, let alone discuss their  _feelings._    

Besides. If Keith didn't feel the same way and Lance boldly confessed, it could ruin _everything._ Just as Lance was attempting to get everyone back together.  He could destroy their dynamic before they even found it again.

“Maybe you just need to keep trying,” Shiro suggested.  "Wear down his corners."

“Yeah...I don’t think he wants me to.” Lance kicked at the yellow silt beneath his foot.  The moon was covered in the stuff, turning it into a yellow orb in outer space.  A lemon drop.  

“I don’t think he _knows_ what he wants,” Shiro said, and he smiled at Lance—a sad, sympathetic smile.  “What do you say we make a deal, Lance?”

“...What kind of deal?”

“If you go talk to Keith right now, about _everything,”_ Shiro raised his brow at this, stressing his syllables _, “_ …then when we get home, I’ll talk to Adam.”

Lance straightened, his arms falling to his sides.  What did he mean...

_“...Everything?”_

Shiro made a face—a face that told him he’d known about Lance’s crush _long_ before Lance had.  That he'd watched Lance grapple with his feelings for the other paladin this entire time.

Lance felt his cheeks warm. “Is it really that obvious?” 

His whole family knew, some of them instantly.  Zamira had her suspicions.  And now _Shiro?_   Was Lance walking around with a sign on his back announcing his love for the Red Paladin?  

“Only because I’m in the same boat as you,” Shiro assured him, peering into Lance’s eyes, into his open heart.  “We both left someone behind to fulfill a duty, Lance.  Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was _selfless_. It doesn’t really matter anymore.  What matters is that we left them behind without resolving things first.  We both ended things on the wrong foot, and no one involved was given any form of closure.  Now's our chance to fix that.”

Lance stared at his friend. 

_Speechless._

Because Shiro was equating his love for _Adam_ to Lance’s love for Keith.  Which was _completely…_

Well...

…Accurate. 

Lance loved Keith, didn't he? He’d been aware of that for a few years now.  But he’d never felt the magnitude of his feelings until he’d thought he’d lost him.  Until he saw him there, chained up, still as death.

And when Keith had come back to him…he’d _known—_ no feeling had ever paralleled what he felt for Keith.   No feeling ever could.

“What if I mess everything up?” Lance whispered.  “By telling him?”

“I don’t think things could get much worse than this,” Shiro put gently, and Lance shot him a withering look. Shiro chuckled a little, running a hand through his dark hair. “Just…be honest with him, Lance.  You two can’t move forward until he has some idea of where you stand.  And he deserves to know.  You helped me realize that.”

Lance worried his lip, fighting off the uncertainties, the intrusive thoughts.    

But if Shiro could summon the bravery to speak to Adam after _nine_ years…

Lance could surely speak to Keith. 

Right?

Lance swallowed.  “And if…if I do this, you’ll talk to Adam? You’ll tell him your disease is gone, and that you’re still in love with him?  No matter what happens with me and Keith?”

Shiro dipped his chin. “No matter what.”

Ah, fuck.

Now Lance _had_ to do it.

He was responsible for reuniting two _soulmates_.  

And Shiro was right. If Lance didn’t tell Keith now, they’d never go back to where they'd been before, they could never move past this awkward, miserable situation. 

He didn’t have much to lose.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing the bundle of nerves in his throat. “I’ll…give it a shot.  You and my sister are right.  I need to clear the air.  I just need to get it out there.”  He turned to the Red Lion, shaking out his hands.  “I’m doing it. Right now. Before I can talk myself out of it.” 

Shit. 

Red had never looked so _terrifying._

“Wish me luck, Shiro.”

“I don’t think you’ll need it.”

Lance glanced over his shoulder at Shiro’s warm gaze, and he swelled with hope.  Shiro wouldn’t encourage him to do this if he knew for a fact Keith didn’t feel _something_.  If he knew there was absolutely no chance for the two paladins. 

Lance took a deep, steadying breath, and he marched forward.

 

* * *

 

Keith sat on the floor of the cargo hold, leaning back against the wall, cross-legged.  He was looking better day by day, regaining some color in his cheeks, some meat in his bones.  Slowly but surely getting his strength back. 

His shorter hair had taken some getting used to, and Lance found that he actually...missed the mullet.  

He supposed the hair style was just so _Keith,_ that he couldn't help but mourn it a little.  

The mullet represented an older, familiar Keith after all.  The Keith who thought dogs could talk.  The Keith who couldn't finish a Voltron cheer.   The Keith who had once kissed him, blushing furiously all the while.

As Lance approached the paladin, he realized Keith wore a familiar set of headphones, and he held an old, cheap iPod in his hands.

Lance's iPod.

 _He still has it,_ Lance thought, his gut coiling.  _He still uses it._

That had to mean something, didn't it?  Especially since Keith hated his taste in music.

Had he kept it for the nightmares?

Had...had there been a sentimental reason?

Keith slid the headphones down to hang around his neck, and he looked up at Lance curiously.  _Warily._

“Hey.  Um...I brought you some things..."  Lance said, setting his bag down on the healing pod and unzipping it.   Grinning, he removed the tub of peanut butter he’d had with him for the past two weeks and tossed it to Keith.

Keith blinked down at it, turning it over in his hands.

 _Expressionless_.

Lance’s shoulders fell at the lack of response.  “It’s…uh…I thought you’d like that.  Since, you know, you said—“

“I remember,” Keith said, impassive, setting the jar on the ground.  “Thanks.”

Lance bit his lip.   He turned back to his pack, undeterred.  “Well. That’s not all.”  He unfolded the red and black material—freshly washed—holding it up for Keith to see.  

Keith’s dark eyes widened.  “Is that mine?”

Lance nodded, throwing it to him.  Keith observed his old jacket with reverence. 

“Yeah.  It didn’t fit me, so I had my mom tailor it.  She also made it longer,” Lance added when he saw Keith staring at the black cloth stitched below the red. At the new black hood and cuffs.   “…Sorry, I wasn’t digging the cropped style.  I didn’t want to get beat up on campus for looking like Marty McFly…”

Keith glanced up at him, a flicker of surprise passing over his face. “You…went to college?”

“Yeah. I’m still enrolled…or I _was_ ,” Lance shrugged, nonchalant.  “The jacket was great in the wet season.  Plus I look hella good in red. Who’d a thought?”

Keith frowned, lifting the jacket for Lance to take. “Then...don’t you want it back?  It’s yours now, isn’t it?”

“No I…I brought it for _you,"_ Lance said,looking at Keith sadly, wondering when this cold front would thaw. “I thought you might have missed it.  And…I don’t know…that it might help you remember…”

Keith’s brow furrowed even more.   “Remember what?”

“Just...the person you used to be,” Lance answered slowly.  “I thought it might help pull you back from where these last six months have taken you.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Keith scowled, bundling the jacket and sliding it away next to the peanut butter.  A _thanks, but no thanks_.

Lance tried not to take it personally.

 _He’s been through shit,_ Lance reminded himself.  _He’s hurting.  You know he is. He’s just forgotten how to be vulnerable around you._

_He might not want you right now.  But he needs you._

Shaking off his hesitation, Lance sat down next to the other boy, leaning back against the wall, linking his hands together over his knees.  A tense silence fell between them as Lance mustered the courage to speak.  

“Keith…are you okay?”

Keith glowered, naturally, but his face softened as the seconds passed.  “I’m…” He hung his head. “I…don’t know.”

Lance sighed.  At least he wasn’t all charades.  “It’s okay…not to be okay, you know.”

Jessica had told him that once.  That you’re allowed to be upset. You’re allowed to hurt.  That’s what being human entails.

Keith was quiet for a moment, and then he lifted his head, frowning.   “Why are you here, Lance?”

“…What?”

“Why are you _here_?” Keith repeated.  “You left Voltron.  You were enrolled in school. You had a life in Cuba. So why are you here?”

Lance blinked at him—at the anger and irritation on his face. “Is that…even a question?”

“You didn’t have to come get me.  You didn’t even know if I was in danger.  You could have left this to Shiro," Keith insisted.  "So...what’s different now? Why did you change your mind?”

…Was he an _idiot?_

Lance lifted his palm.  “Keith, you were in trouble…how could you think I wouldn’t do _everything_ I could to save you?”

Keith stared at him like it was obvious.   “Because…you _left_ …”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Lance searched his violet eyes, and he tilted his head, leaning forward. “Keith…that doesn’t mean I stopped _caring_.”

Keith gazed at him, at all the points of Lance’s face, and then he looked away, troubled. 

Lost.

Lance wanted to _shake_ him.  How could Keith think he’d just leave him to die?  Choosing his family didn’t mean he hated Voltron.  He’d _had_ to stay behind.  He’d had to get his life in order.  Keith understood that, didn’t he?

“Remember when you left for the Blade?” Lance asked quietly.  “How you left and were able to find your mom and figure out exactly who you were?”

Keith made some noncommittal sound.

“That’s what I had to do too, Keith.  I had to find myself again.  I had to help my family.  And just like when you came back to the team, ready to lead, ready for _us_ —now I’m ready too.  My leaving had nothing to do with how I _felt_ about you guys.” Lance shook his head.  “If that had been the deciding factor, I never would have stayed in Cuba.”

Keith’s face contorted as he stared at the floor.  “Why not?”

“Because I…”   Lance felt Keith turn to look at him expectantly, but he didn’t dare meet his piercing gaze.  “Because I was falling in love,” he confessed softly, jumping off the precipice before his bravery abandoned him.  

He let out his breath, giving in to his heart.  

Giving into gravity.

“…with you, Keith.  I was falling in love with _you_.”

Keith went entirely still beside him. 

Which...was probably a bad sign. But Lance wasn’t finished yet, and he wouldn’t get there if he chanced a look at Keith halfway through.

“I think there was always an attraction there, but it was buried beneath my feelings of inadequacy…and my crush on Allura.  When you came back to the team, I started to dig up those feelings and sort of…recognize them for what they were, I guess. I couldn’t ignore it anymore.  Not after Portux.” 

Lance thought back to the days they'd spent hopscotching to Earth, remembering how Keith had been the only one paying any attention to Lance’s withdrawal from the team, how Keith had been there for him when no one else was.  And of course, the moment it had all come crashing down on him _—_ the first time he'd laid eyes on Keith's pretty sleeping face and his ridiculous bed head. 

“But…I didn’t let myself fall all the way," Lance said.  "Not when you were in love with someone else—I wasn’t about to go through that again.  So…I let you go.”

He finally glanced at Keith, and it sent his heart to his throat, his stomach to the floor.

Keith’s eyes were finally _open,_ unguarded.  Watery and _confused_. “What are you talking about? In love with _who_?”

“The mystery guy,” Lace said slowly, a bit stupidly, because how could Keith _not_ know?  “The one you told me about on Portux?  The unreciprocated love.”

Keith stared at him blankly.

“ _…_ You know, the one who didn’t know about your feelings?” Lance pressed.

Realization dawned on Keith, and he looked up at the ceiling and back at him, exasperated.  _Pained_.  “Lance…you’re an idiot.”

Lance wasn’t going to disagree.  He just waited, raising his brow in confusion.  Waiting for an explanation.

 “Lance, that mystery guy? That was _you_.”

....What?

“What do you mean, he was _me_?”

Keith rested his head on the wall behind him and closed his eyes. “I…I had _feelings_ for you, but you were obsessed with Allura, so I never said anything.”  When Lance didn't say anything _—couldn't_ sa _y_ anything—Keith opened his eyes again. “What, do I have to spell it out for you?”

Holy _shit_.

Lance was glad he was sitting down; the news would have blown him over. 

“You’re telling me you were in _love_ with me, and I let you _leave_?” he whispered, his voice stripped raw.

Keith’s mouth flattened into a tight line.  “Would it have made any difference if you’d known?”

“Made a _difference_?  Keith, you were the one thing making me hesitate,” Lance breathed.  “Of course it would have.”

Sure, Lance probably would have stayed in Cuba for a while longer, but not for three _years_.  He wouldn’t have suffered a broken heart.  He wouldn’t have felt so much resentment.  He and Keith could have messaged constantly.  They could have made plans to meet up again. 

A long-distance relationship never would have worked between them—that was something Lance had always known.   But to know that Lance had been the only person Keith ever loved, that he was Keith’s first choice, that there was no other boy who shared his affection, that it had _always_ been Lance…

Lance would have fought for that _tooth_ and _nail._

And perhaps then...then they could have waited for each other, until Lance was ready to come back.  Perhaps this reunion could have gone very differently.

“Why didn’t you _say_ anything?” 

“I _kissed_ you, didn’t I?” Keith bit out.  “Wasn’t that _enough_?”

Lance smacked his forehead. “It was enough to throw me into a spiral of confusion for the next three years!” He rolled his eyes.  “Come on, Keith. You had to know that wasn’t going to magically explain everything going on in your head.  I didn’t know _what_ to think.” 

Keith released a heavy sigh, looking down at the floor, and they sat in the residue of their misunderstandings. 

Lance couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

Keith had _loved_ him.

 _Loved_.

He hadn’t just thought Lance was attractive enough to kiss.  He hadn’t just _liked_ him. Keith had loved Lance, and he’d been very aware of the fact. 

He might have been the only person to ever _truly_ love Lance.   And Lance had thrown it away—oblivious.

Exhaling shakily, he turned to face Keith fully, and the paladin looked so surprised and conflicted it actually _hurt_.  

“Keith...I was just starting to fall for you when you went back to space. I wasn’t entirely sure of my feelings until after you were gone.  Until Jess sat me down and explained to me why I was losing my mind.”  He wet his lips, lifted his chin.  “But…once you left, I never _stopped_ falling…”  

Keith glanced up at that, and their gazes caught fire. 

“I tried to let you go, but I couldn’t,” Lance continued, watching Keith’s eyes widen, his mouth slip open.  “I’m still…I’m still right where I was three years ago.  I know things have changed for you, and you’ve gone through hell, but I’m still in—”

“ _Don’t_.”

Lance fell silent as Keith's gaze abandoned his, a cold lump climbing his throat at the way Keith curled into himself.  As he drifted away.

“I spent the last year trying to forget about you, Lance," Keith said quietly, and Lance felt something in his chest _splinter,_ letting in the cold.  “I can’t let you in again knowing you’re going to leave...I don’t even know if I _want_ to…”

Ice. 

Ice in Lance’s veins.  Ice on his tongue.

“I’m sorry,” Keith added thickly.  “I just…don’t know how I feel anymore.”

Lance watched him recede again, back to that cold, guarded front.  Back to the boy without feelings.  The untouchable stranger.

He’d known deep down this was the response Keith would give him.  That he’d push him away.  Push away his feelings instead of sorting through them.

So why did it hurt so much?

 _It’s only been a year for him_ , the voice of reason recalled.  _It took you three years to get here._

_You did what you came to do._

_Now be the friend he needs._

Lance managed a half-smile, shuffling to his feet.  “Don’t apologize.  You don’t have to decide how you feel right now.  You don’t owe me _anything_.  I just thought you deserved to know how I felt…how I _feel_.” 

Keith scowled at the floor, refusing him eye contact.

“Take all the time you need, Keith.  I’m not going anywhere.  Not this time.”

He snatched his bag off the pod and walked out, making it all the way to the cockpit before he sank to the floor and buried his head in his arms.

Shattering.

 

* * *

  

Keith watched Lance braid Lox’s hair, reminiscing about Jessica and her salon in Cuba.  The campfire painted his tan skin warm orange and yellows, and Keith looked away, aching.

Lance was… _Lance_ again.  Winsome.  Sarcastic. 

He was back on track.  He was _ready_ , he’d said.

He _loved_ Keith.

And hell, Keith would have given anything to hear him say that once upon a time. 

...But things were different now.  

He’d been left too many times in his life, and his heart was jagged; his trust was broken.   Every time he started to form an attachment to someone, they disappeared.  Or they died.

His mother had been the first to leave him.   He hadn’t known why.  His father never said.  So Keith had grown up believing something was wrong with him.  That he wasn’t _enough_. If his own mother hadn’t wanted him...who would?  

Then his father left.  He’d chosen to go back into that burning building. He’d _chosen_ to abandon Keith.  He was a hero in Keith’s eyes, and he always would be, but he’d also forgotten he was responsible for a motherless, seven-year-old boy.

Years later, Shiro had left for the Kerberos Mission, knowing he was sick, knowing things could go wrong, knowing he was all Keith had in the world.  And he’d _still_ gone.

So Keith had isolated himself from the world.  He couldn’t trust anyone.  Being alone was better than being broken.

And Keith didn’t mind the isolation.  He was good at being alone.  

It was all he knew.

But then the team came along.  Loud and rambunctious.  Prying their way into Keith’s closed quarters even when he held the door shut.  And somehow, miraculously, they’d found their way in.  _Lance_  of all people had found his way in. 

Given his track record, Keith hadn’t wanted to accept them into his life.  He just wanted to stop the Galra and end the war. He wasn't here to make friends and fall in love with space.  But he couldn't help it—he began to enjoy their company, to depend on these people. He started to feel like he was part of something.  Part of a real family. 

It was great there for a while.  Being surrounded by people who cared about him.  Having a purpose.

However, as time passed, Keith watched their allies die one after another, the blades sacrifice themselves for a better future, lights flickering out one by one.  When he’d lost Shiro for a second time, Keith was suddenly reminded of how much it _hurt_ to lose people. 

And he was going to lose his whole team, wasn’t he?  Because _everyone_ left.

So maybe it was better to leave them first.  Maybe it was better to sever their ties before they could shatter him.

So he'd gone away, thinking everyone was better off.   And joining the Blade of Marmora had seemed like the right decision at first.  There was no attachment.  The comradery of Voltron didn’t exist there.    Keeping himself closed off was as easy as breathing.  

But when Keith was stranded for two years with his mother, he’d realized maybe the pain of loss was worth it.  Because the pain of not being with his friends and not knowing if they were okay, if Shiro and Lance were okay—that had been just as difficult. 

He’d spent many nights reflecting on his time with the Blade.  Putting the mission first had seemed so right....until it _didn’t_.  Because sometimes people mattered more than the success of an operation.   Sometimes they were worth the risk. 

And even though people left, some of them came  _back._   Krolia was proof of that.  Shiro and Matt were proof of that.

So Keith had returned to his team with less reservations.  He’d missed his friends.  He’d missed Lance.  He wanted to be a part of this unit again.  For once in his life, Keith had wanted to be _closer_.

And Lance...Lance had finally let him in. 

Naive, Keith had fallen right into the snare, his own telling experience eclipsed by the warmth of Lance’s family.  The idea of Lance’s love.   Keith had accepted his fate. He’d taken an axe to his walls so Lance could get through.  He’d done his best to open his heart and expose himself, if that's what it would take to be with Lance.

And just when Keith had thought that maybe he was capable of closing the distance, Lance had _left_ him. 

He’d left him in the rubble of his own destruction.  Just like everyone else in his life.

 _Everyone_.

Because then, to Keith’s horror, the rest of his friends had pulled away too.   Voltron had dissolved right along with Keith’s trust in people. 

And...yeah, being captured and locked up for months didn't exactly improve his outlook on life.  

Now Lance was back, unprompted, asking for Keith to open his heart again. 

But Keith wasn’t even sure he had a heart worth _giving._   It was all torn up and half-beating.  

How could he love Lance fully, the way he deserved, if Keith knew this wasn’t forever?  If Lance was just going to walk away in the end?   How was he supposed to open up when he knew exactly how things were going to pan out?  How could he throw himself to the sea knowing he’d _drown?_

Keith wasn’t a masochist.  He didn’t _want_ to feel any more pain.

And yet...

Keith glanced back at Lance over the fire, and the boy's eyes flickered in Keith's direction, their gazes snagging.   

Lance's tender expression was accompanied by a patient, understanding smile, and it took all of Keith's willpower to look away. 

 

* * *

 

“This is it,” Shiro said.

It was a squat little building in the market sector, but it was warm and honey-colored, and Lance could smell the food from within, his stomach growling.

Lox stood beside them, taking in the building with young eyes.  “Master Kogane’s restaurant?” she inquired.

“Lox, I told you, you can just call me Keith.”

“...Master Keith’s restaurant?”

Keith ran a hand over his face, and Lance grinned.  “No, Lox,” he said gently.  “This is Hunk’s place. The Yellow Paladin.  You’ll like him. He’s the sweetest guy in the world.  His food is probably the best thing you'll ever taste in your life.”

She made an awed  _oh_ sound.

“Come on in, I’ll introduce you,” Shiro told her, and she followed him through the heavy wooden door, her step as light as an elf’s.

Keith and Lance held back for a moment longer, preparing themselves for the imminent emotional rollercoaster. 

Lance nudged Keith.  “Why don’t you go in first?  You guys deserve a proper reunion…”

Keith looked at him then, and Lance was startled to see the distress in his eyes. 

He didn't get it.

Why was Keith so freaked out to see his  _friends_ again?  What was there to be afraid of? 

He wasn't the one who _left_ the team.  He wasn't the one who hadn't seen them in _years._

“Keith, they thought you were dead.  They’re gonna be thrilled,” Lance assured him, tilting his chin toward the entrance.  “It’ll be okay.”

Keith frowned at him, still hesitant, as if he were making a life-altering decision by stepping through that door.  Deliberating the same way he had before he'd hugged it out with Shiro that first night.  

And Lance suddenly understood why he was holding back.

“Hey...going in there doesn’t mean you have to let them back in again,” Lance said softly, realizing for the first time just how _scared_ Keith was of watching people walk away.  He never realized how hard Keith had taken Voltron splitting up. Hearing it from Shiro was one thing, but watching Keith struggle to even walk through the door...that was something else. “Don’t think about the future. Just...take this one step at a time.  Go see your _friends.”_

Keith swallowed, clenching his gloved fists, and he pushed through the threshold without a word. 

Lance kept the door ajar, watching on intently.

Inside, the dining area was clean and strangely empty.  There were rows of wooden tables, booths along the walls. A hallway winding back to what Lance assumed was the kitchen.  Souvenirs from different missions hung on the walls—a few Lance recognized and a few he didn't.  The smell of fresh bread wafting toward the door had Lance drooling.

Shiro hugged Hunk, grinning as he patted the larger man's back.  Pidge was speaking to Lox excitedly when she caught sight of Keith in her peripheral and turned, wide-eyed.  Hunk followed her gaze, slowly peeling away from Shiro.

Keith stopped short a couple feet from them to take it all in.  Shoulders stiff, as if he'd walked into a fight.

It was dead silent for a few heartbeats, and Lance held his breath.

_Wait for it..._

Pidge’s face broke, and she flung herself at Keith, knocking him off balance as she wrapped her arms around his middle and cried.  Hunk was just half a step behind.  He wrangled them both in a group hug and lifted them up off the ground.

Keith was rigid at first—surprised—but he slowly ducked his head into Hunk’s shoulder and held them back. 

It brought tears to Lance's eyes to see them all in one place again, so happy, so relieved, so _moved_  by Keith's recovery _._  

Sure, they may have gone their separate ways, but they all still loved each other like family.   

And the problematic middle child had just come _home._  

Krolia appeared behind the trio then, her hair slightly longer than Lance had seen it last, and Hunk and Pidge broke away so she could pull Keith into her arms.  Keith was instantly pliant. He molded into her, gripping tight to her Marmora hood.

Krolia’s eyes were crushed close, and she drew in a shaky breath as she clutched at her son, running her hand over his nape and biting her lip to keep the sob in.

Lance stared through wet eyes.  He'd _never_ seen either of them so emotional.  So undone.

He wasn't the only one getting emotional though—there wasn't a dry eye in the room.  Lox was holding her face in her hands, cheeks wet.  Even Shiro was blinking back tears. 

Krolia pulled back to cup Keith's face, smiling her sweet, closed-lip smile.  Communicating exclusively through her loving gaze.

“We thought…dammit, Keith, where have you _been_?” Pidge asked, wiping her eyes.  She was taller now, seventeen years old.  And...

Lance blinked. 

Pidge sort of looked…like a _girl_. 

You know, under the baggy clothes and wild hair and glasses.

It was _weird._  

Hunk, on the other hand, hadn't changed much at all, other than the soiled apron he now wore over a black, double-breasted chef's jacket.  “Yeah, Shiro, how the heck did you _find_ him?  We looked everywhere.” 

“We have…some things to talk about as a team,” Shiro put carefully, and their grins faded at the seriousness in his tone.  “As for how I found Keith…” He turned to the doorway, smiling.  “I had some help.”

Lance cleared his throat and slipped out behind the door, taking in his teammates’ astonishment.  Their wide eyes and gaping mouths.  Even Krolia was caught off guard.

Lance stuck his hands in his jean pockets, lifting his shoulders. He'd planned on saying a few different witty remarks.  Some hilarious one-liners.  But he'd blanked under the raw emotion coursing through him.

“Hey.”

Hunk blinked at him for a few seconds, like he was trying to blink away a mirage.  “... _Lance_?”

Lance grinned brilliantly, finding his footing again. “Miss me?”

Hunk rolled his eyes, releasing an amused, incredulous chuckle.  He moved for Lance, yanking him into a tight hug. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Lance had missed Hunk’s hugs. They were like _antidotes_ for the mind and soul. 

He really deserved an award or something because nothing could compare.

Lance snickered.  "I missed you too, buddy.  So much."

Hunk finally pulled back, his eyes flooded.  He gripped Lance’s shoulders.  “Wow. Look at you. Ears pierced.  Hair all windswept and _beachy._   I think you’re three shades darker than your last video.  Major glow up, dude.”  

"Yeah?" Lance bent his head, laughing.  “What about _you,_ Mr. Chef Man?  This place is awesome.  My mouth was watering all the way down the road.”

“It’s pretty great, huh?”

Lance’s eyes roamed the cabin-like restaurant, warm and cozy, smelling of a Hawaiian barbecue. Hunk had created a multicultural space here, even incorporating his own Samoan heritage.  Lance's gaze returned to Hunk, and he smiled.  “I’m proud of you, Hunk.  You followed your dream, and you're helping _so_ many people here.”

Shiro had told Lance the restaurant proceeds funded a number of different reconstruction projects and rehabilitation efforts.  Hunk was helping those displaced by the war start again, helping them rebuild what the Galra had destroyed.  

In a way, Hunk was still fighting a war.  Just without a giant robotic lion. 

And Lance found that much more admirable.

Hunk rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m...doing my best.”

"Your best is _amazing, ese."_

Pidge cleared her throat, stepping out around Shiro.  Arms crossed. Foot tapping impatiently.  She looked way too much like Veronica after one of the kids had done something that warranted a spanking.

“Pigeon,” Lance said cautiously.  “You...surprised to see me?”

“You know, somehow? No, not really," she said, and her frown pulled up at the corners. 

 _She's still a sarcastic gremlin,_ Lance thought fondly.  _Thank God_.

"So...you saved Keith?" she asked, quirking a brow.  A suspicious, all-knowing brow.  An ever-growing smile.

Lance didn't like that look. It was the same face Veronica made when he told her he and Keith were just friends.

"Technically Lox did all the work tracking Keith down," Lance admitted. "I was just...resourceful."

"That's a major understatement," Shiro protested. "I might _never_ have found Keith without Lance's help."

Lance glanced over at Shiro in surprise, flushing a little at the praise.  Shiro had already thanked Lance plenty for getting Keith out.  But...it was nice to hear him acknowledge Lance's efforts in front of the team.

 _"Interesting,”_ Pidge said, watching Keith peculiarly, who was pointedly avoiding Lance in his entirety. 

Lance looked Pidge over.  “You grew like a whole foot, you know.”

She scanned him critically.  “So did you. You're like the _beanpoliest_ beanpole _ever.”_

“So…nothing's really changed then, huh?”

She huffed, tapping her foot again, fighting through some kind of internal struggle.

But her hard exterior finally cracked.  Her shoulders slumped, and she stepped forward, pulling Lance into a hug, tucking her forehead into his chest. 

“No.  Nothing’s changed.”

Lance's chest filled with warmth, and he held her back, resting his cheek against the crown of her head. 

She really was the little sister he’d never had. 

Also, the devil incarnate. 

But you get what you get.

“One thing is different,” he whispered into her hair, grinning because he _knew_ how to get under her skin.  "You're no longer a flat-chested—"

She elbowed him in the gut so hard, he let out a ragged _oof_ and staggered backward.  

"OW."

Had she always been that strong?

“You really haven’t changed at all,” she muttered, a playful scowl on her face.  

Lance rubbed his stomach, beaming.  A billion light-years from Earth, and he'd never felt more at  _home._

 

* * *

  

“Lotor…and Keith…” Hunk was horrified.  “I had no idea…I thought Lotor was _gone_.”

“We all did,” Shiro assured him. “But now he’s going after Earth.  And we need to intercept him.”

They stood around one of the long dining tables, several of them slumped in chairs, a big tray full of uneaten appetizers sitting before them.  Shay made her appearance, delivering drinks to the group and placing a calming, reassuring hand on Hunk's arm before leaving them to further discuss their dilemma.

“I need to send a message to my dad,” Pidge said, pulling up a holo-sreen on her watch.  “At least he can start preparing for an attack before we get there.”

“The message could take forever to arrive,” Lance reminded her.  “We can send it, but we need to get closer to Earth if we want to warn them in time.”

“So…what, another road trip?” Hunk proposed, sitting back in his chair.  “That could take a while too.”

“Without Allura, how are we even going to _defeat_ Lotor?” Pidge asked, deflating.  “For all we know, he could have his evil-Voltron ship again, and we barely beat him last time.”

“And we don't even know how many supporters he has,” Keith added darkly.  "He's spent the last year scheming.  Who knows how big his army is."

"Destroyed ships?" Lox said optimistically. "Delayed him, maybe?"

Shiro nodded. "Taking out his fleet may have bought us time. But we don't know if he even _needs_ those fighter jets.  They could have been his backup plan."

They stared at the bowl of salsa glumly.

“So…what do we do?” Hunk asked.   “This is looking pretty bleak.”

They turned to the oldest member of the team, and Shiro sighed deeply.  “Well…first of all, we need to call up the members of the Coalition and request their assistance.  Hopefully some of them can get to Earth before us.  In the meantime..." He frowned. "I guess we'll send a message to Holt and pray that Lotor takes a detour…”

“That’s a bad plan,” Pidge stated bluntly, earning a scathing look from Keith. “The Coalition hasn’t assembled in a _months._   They’re not even a military operation anymore.  They’re not going to have fighter pilots at the ready."

“The _Blade_ will,” Krolia said. “I’ll send word to Kolivan, and he'll get a team to Earth as soon as possible.”

“And you think Earth will be able to differentiate Galra from _Galra?”_ Pidge asked. “My dad might be able to tell the difference, but he doesn’t have a say in who gets shot down if Galra ships start descending on the Garrison.”

Lance read the concern on his friends’ faces—the dread, the anxiety—and he shook his head, stepping off his stool to stand next to Shiro. “Come on, guys. We’ve _got_ this.  We already have a plan in the works, right?  _Keith?”_

Keith blinked at him, and Lance sent him a _look_. 

 _Come on, Keith.  I know you’ve been stitching one together the entire time we've been talking. I_ know _you._

_Speak up._

Keith cleared his throat, glancing once at Shiro, who gestured for him to take the floor.  “Right. Um...Pidge, you should go ahead and send your message to the Garrison.  Let them know what’s happening and how they should prepare for an invasion. Even if it takes a few weeks, the sooner we put the warning out there the better."  He uncrossed his arms, standing a little straighter, a little taller.  "Hunk, you have the most contacts here. Why don’t you spread the word that Voltron needs help. Maybe we can get a broadcast out into the public sphere to reach more people, not just fighter pilots.  If Lotor's already waging war on Earth, we're going to need medical aid, first responders...that kind of thing.  Krolia can assemble the Blade, and Shiro can send a distress signal to all Coalition members, asking them to rendezvous near Earth.  We'll meet up before reentry to avoid any friendly fire.  And to come up with a plan of attack without the Garrison's idiocy.”

Lance felt himself grinning despite the circumstances. 

Keith was _meant_ to be a leader.  Maybe not a diplomatic, patient leader like Shiro.  But his own kind of leader.  A reckless, experienced, creative leader willing to do whatever it took to save the universe.

Lance may not have seen it at first, blinded by his own ego, but when Keith had taken up the mantle of the Black Paladin and proven his aptitude, Lance had thought, _this is right._

Keith was a quick thinker with brilliant, daring ideas.  He was brave and selfless and worked expertly under pressure.  He had sharp focus.  Sometimes too narrow a focus, but that's why he had the team.  Why he had Lance. 

They'd worked well together as the head of Voltron and its right hand _._ As _co-leaders._

Lance had forgotten just how well.

“Then Lance and I…” Keith paused, his brow knitting, as if he hadn't meant to pair them up together. “Lance and I will map out the quickest route back to Earth.  That is...if...if you're all on board.”

Pidge and Hunk frowned.  "On _board?"_

"I just...I know you all have lives to get back to.  You all have responsibilities somewhere else.  So—“

“Keith,” Hunk cut in, raising his thick eyebrows.  “This is _Earth_ we’re talking about. You don’t need to talk us into this. My bags are already packed.”

Pidge nodded. “Earth needs us.  Our _families_ need us.  We're in."

Keith stared at them, taken aback by their conviction.  Relieved and grateful.  

Lance whooped, sticking his hand in the middle of the table.  “Team Voltron is back baby!  Stack it up."

Hunk chuckled, shaking his head, but indulging Lance by throwing his hand into the center.  Pidge leaned over the edge of the table, smacking her hand on Hunk's.  Shiro grinned, contributing his metal arm. 

Even Keith added his hand to the pile.   

"Now what?" Keith asked. 

"Now Shiro says something inspirational," Lance explained.  "Shouldn't be hard.  He speaks in Pinterest quotes."

Shiro made an offended sound, and the others laughed.   But, as Lance expected, he rose to the occasion. 

"Okay.  We've got one more mission ahead of us, paladins.  Let's make it count."  Shiro looked at Lance, smiling in fond exasperation.  "Voltron on three."

 

* * *

 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Keith stated, and Lance thought he could see a vein throb in his forehead. “Why would we stop on Glaptris? It’s off course.”

“Would you rather stop on one of Allaseamster’s moons?  You _know_ they smell weird.”

“Lance. We would be sleeping for maybe six hours before taking off.  We could just sleep in the lions.”

“The smell still gets in through the cracks!”

Keith huffed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. 

They had most of the route sketched out by now, represented by a dotted red line across the holographic map between them.  Still, planning for each pit stop to coincide with a supply run was not an easy task.  They’d cut the journey down to twelve days, but there were still some major kinks to work out. 

It didn't help that Keith was out of touch.  He didn’t know about the spider infestation on Pandora _or_ the horrible, blinding glare of the sun in the Dorado system. 

Or he knew, and he just didn't care. 

Which was somehow even worse. 

“Fine. We’ll stop on Glaptris, but then we’re not restocking on Budevham just so you can see the giant mushrooms.”

“Okay but Keith.  They’re giant  _shrooms_.  Aren't you just a little curious?”

Keith glared at him. “This isn’t a road trip.  Earth is in _danger.”_

“Fine,” Lance relented, removing Budevham from the map.  “...Maybe on the way back.”

Keith released a puff of air between his teeth, and it sounded like the ghost of a laugh.

Lance grinned, stepping beside Keith to observe their route.  “It feels kind of like old times, huh?”

Keith side-eyed him. "...Yeah."

A loud beeping sound sent them jumping apart as a video screen shot up over the map, the hologram glitching a little as the feed finished rendering.   Lance glanced down at Pidge's computer, clicking the Accept button on the call.

" _Shiro?_ Keith? Can anyone hear me?”

The voice was warbled, but distinctly feminine. 

And _familiar._

The image cleared, revealing a dark-skinned beauty with short, white hair falling around her face.

“…Allura?”

She blinked rapidly, staring back at them. 

“… _Lance_?”

  

* * *

 

“Lance, what…what are you _doing_ there?”

Lance leaned forward, grinning his stupid, flirtatious grin. “Happy to see me, Princess?”

Allura smiled around her palpable shock. “I…yes, I’m extremely happy to see you, and very, very curious as to what you’re—“

“Allura,” Shiro breathed, marching into the room. “Where have you _been?_   Do you know how many times I tried to contact you in the last six months?”

Lance pouted. “Shiro this is  _my_ reunion. Don't spoil it with your dadness.”

“Shut up, Lance,” Keith said automatically.  Lance huffed, but he stepped aside so Shiro could speak, albeit _grumpily._

Then Pidge and Hunk appeared at the end of the hall, their eyes and smiles widening at the video projection.  "Allura?"

"Pidge. _Hunk._   I've missed you both so much," Allura breathed, but her grin faltered as she observed Shiro and his angry, folded arms and dark, disappointed eyes.  “I'm sorry we've been...how do humans say it? _MIA?_    We didn’t realize the communications would cut out like that.”

“We _needed_ you," Shiro said, and Keith could hear the hurt in his voice.  

She nodded, brushing a strand of short hair behind her ear. “I know.  I just saw your messages.  Keith…” She gazed at him, her bright eyes glistening.  “Keith, I’m so sorry.  If we’d known earlier…”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Keith got out, sparing her an unnecessary apology.  “We have more important things to deal with anyway.”

The corner of her mouth lifted with a rare kind of fondness, like she’d _known_ he would respond that way.  “You're right. Although I just have to say, it’s wonderful to see all of you.  Even you, Lance."

"Aw..." Lance cocked his head, a little slow to catch on.  _"Wait."_

Allura smiled at him teasingly, but it faded as she turned back to Shiro, all business.  "Have any of you checked your lions' feed in the last two hours?”

Keith frowned, shaking his head.  “…Why?”

“We just got a distress call from Drajion,” Allura said seriously.  “Lotor has just stolen one of their missiles.”

Shit. 

“You mean one of those mega _planet_ - _destroying_ missiles?” Hunk asked cautiously. 

Allura nodded.

Keith and Lance exchanged looks, and then immediately froze at the action, bewildered by the involuntary reflex. 

Keith hadn't realized how much he'd always looked to Lance to bounce opinions off of...

Apparently it was a habit he'd never learned to break. 

“I thought we’d destroyed the station with all of the missile coordinates," Keith said, "how did Lotor get his hands on one?” 

“His generals were able to hunt down the Drajions who had once worked on the station.  They sold us out in exchange for their future safety.”

Lance cursed. “So you’re telling me Lotor has a missile capable of blowing up the entire Earth, and he’s headed there right _now_?”

“I don’t know where he is.  My best guess is he’s refueling. Preparing himself for an attack.  But I don’t know when he’ll strike. It could be tomorrow. It could be a month from now.”

"The quintessence has made him even more unpredictable," Keith said, thinking back to the Galran's crazed demeanor.  He'd behaved like a drug addict, twitching all the time, eyes unblinking like a predator.  "We need to act fast."

Shiro crossed his arms, glancing back at Allura.  “Where are you now?”

“Locked in on your location. Pulling up a wormhole as we speak,” Allura answered, already two steps ahead, as usual.  “We’ll pick you up in a varga.”

Shiro grinned.  Almost like he’d forgotten how the two of them shared a wavelength.  That together, with their leadership and motivational speeches, they'd brought peace to the universe.

“Then we'll see you soon, Princess.”

She smiled before cutting out, and the entire thing was so...familiar Keith couldn't help but feel like no time had passed, like the team had never even split up.

It was a dangerous way to feel.

"Well. That's convenient," Pidge said, leaning back against one of the tables.   "A teludav and magic castle at our disposal?  We'll reach Earth in no time."  She pursed her lips, raising a finger. "Also, on a side note, I call dibs on blasting Lotor in the face.”

Lance gasped. “No _way!_ I called dibs before any of you.  Remember? Back when he was wooing Allura?  He was at the top of my hit list.”

"You have a hit list?" Keith murmured, unable to keep the edges of his mouth from quirking up.  

"That's what I said."

“I don't know.  I think if anyone has the right to kill Lotor it’s _Keith,”_ Hunk acknowledged.  "Actually, he and Allura have the most valid reasons for wanting blood."

"Exactly...Lotor hurt Allura _and_  Keith," Lance said. "So by the transitive property, he's mine for the taking."

"Lance, that's not how the transitive property works," Hunk objected. 

"I think he's trying to say it's his right as an overprotective _boyfriend,"_ Pidge said, grinning wickedly.  "But he never dated either one of them. So...his argument is invalid.  As usual."

Lance gaped, flushing at her insinuation.  "That's not....look, I called dibs first.  It's the law of the land.  Snooze you lose. If you want to blast a hole in that L'Oréal commercial's face, get in line."

 _"Lance,"_   Shiro cut in, but Pidge wasn't finished.

“You know what?  Let's settle this like adults, right here, right now," she declared, leveling her gaze at the paladin. "Rock paper scissors.  Two out of three."

Lance squared up, hands at the ready.  "Fine."

"No, not fine!" Shiro cried, stepping between them, exasperated.  "We can hash out the Lotor execution later. Right now we need to assemble the Lions."

Lance and Pidge lowered their hands, communicating through dark looks that said  _this isn't over_. 

Shiro sighed, looking over at Hunk apologetically. "I'm sorry, Hunk.  I don't think we'll be able to eat the meal you've prepared for us."

"What? Shiro. _No."_  

"Lance."

"I haven't eaten Hunk's dishes in three _years._ You can't take this away from me."

"Lance."

_"Shiro."_

Shiro looked like he wanted to go take a nap.  "Hunk...what's your ETC on dinner?"

"It's all ready actually.  Sitting in a crock-pot."

"Okay.  Then you and Lance go pack up some to-go boxes and get your lions ready."

Lance rejoiced, high-fiving Hunk and taking off toward the kitchen.  The rest of the group dispersed, leaving Shiro and Keith alone in the dining room. 

They shared a look, the kind of look you'd see two parents make when they'd finally put their kids to bed.

“How are you doing?” Shiro asked him quietly. “...Things are moving pretty fast.”

Keith shrugged. “I’m fine.”  

And for the first time, he really _was._   

This fast pace was good for him.  Keeping busy kept his mind from reflecting on bad memories.  They provided an excuse to avoid thinking about Lance and his feelings. 

Shiro looked him over like he wasn't quite sure he believed him.  Then he glanced at the door.  “So…am I grabbing Black, or are you?”

The question contained a slew of smaller questions.  

Shiro was _actually_ asking if Keith was ready to accept his role as the Black Paladin.  But his tone also told Keith that it was okay if he _wasn't._   That he'd been through a lot. That Shiro would support him either way this time around.  

His gaze told him that Shiro wasn't going to disappear on him just yet.  He'd help him through this transition and only retire when Keith was _ready._

Swallowing, Keith glanced at the hallway Lance and Hunk had disappeared down. 

His team. His friends.  Voltron, back together again.  Maybe not forever.  

But...but it didn't _have_ to be forever.  Keith didn't have to let them in all the way.  He just had to lead them to victory.

 _One step at a time,_ Lance had told him. 

So Keith took his first step forward.

“...You think Black will respond to me?” he asked.  "After all this time?"

Shiro clapped him on the shoulder.  “I _know_ he will.”

 

* * *

 

The moment they'd emerged from the Castle, Lance had run up to them, hugging Coran first and laughing at the man's shock and bewilderment.

He'd kissed Allura's cheek and hugged her fiercely.  Telling her she looked like a goddess and her haircut was sexy. Telling her his sisters all said hi. 

Allura had gone all teary-eyed, gripping onto Lance tightly, smiling.

Keith tried not to be annoyed by their closeness. Their easiness.  But he was. Even though he _knew_ Lance loved him.  Even though he had no right to feel territorial after pushing Lance away. 

He couldn't help it.

He wished they could be that _normal._

Still. It was good to see the Alteans again.  Keith and Allura had been through a lot together.  They'd overcome racial prejudices. They'd learned to understand one another.   They'd both been willing to leave for the sake of the team.  

She'd been a good friend to him.  

And when she walked up to him and folded her arms around him so _delicately,_ he'd found himself tearing up all over again. 

"I'm so glad you're okay, Keith," she'd said.  "We'll find Lotor.  And we'll make him pay. You and me."

He'd hugged her back, smiling a little. "...Don't tell Lance that."

They'd introduced Lox, who'd requested to follow them to Earth and help in any way she could, claiming her family would want her to see this through.  Coran and Allura were astonished they'd managed to _find_ an Invenian, and they spent the next fifteen minutes asking her questions.  Allura looked about ready to adopt the young teen.  

Then Shiro had reminded everyone they had _places to be,_ and they'd all boarded the Castle with their lions, Lance murmuring something flippant about _Mr. Patience_ under his breath.

They'd just flown through a wormhole back to the Milky Way, and Keith currently sat at his designated chair on the bridge, worrying his lip.  

He didn't like this...this waiting.  This apprehension.

Would Lotor be there already?  

What if...what if he'd already _used_ the missile?

What if Earth was gone, the Garrison, and all of Hunk and Lance's family...

"We've got a signal!" Pidge announced.  "Calling in."

The paladins sat tensely, watching the holographic screen pulse with the sound waves of Pidge's call. 

One beep. 

Two beeps. 

Three... _shit_ ...three beeps. 

Keith's fingers curled around the arms of his chair tightly.  

"—This is Officer Samuel Holt with the Galaxy Garrison."

The team collapsed in relief, releasing heavy breaths, slumping over.

"State your allegiance and—"

"Dad, it's me!" Pidge yelled, the waves bolting at her volume level. 

A beat. 

 _"Katie?_ Is that really _you?"_

Pidge swallowed thickly, rushing to get the words out.  "Dad, is everyone okay?  Is there anything wrong?"

"Wh...no.  Everything's fine. Katie, what's happening? Where have you been?"

Keith closed his eyes, relaxing his death grip on the chair.   Earth was _okay._   Everyone was okay. 

For now.

"Thank fuck," Lance breathed, sliding down into his seat until he was lying horizontal. "Thank fucking fuck—"

 _"Lance,"_ Shiro hissed. 

"Listen, Dad," Pidge got out, "Lotor isn't dead.  We think he's headed for Earth and planning to attack.  He's got a weapon that makes nukes look like child's play. You need to prepare the Garrison immediately."

There was a pause, and Keith could sense the questions piling up on Holt's tongue.  His relief at hearing his daughter's voice after a year.  His confusion. His alarm.  

There was too much to say.  

So he surprised everyone when he asked, "...Who's _we?"_

Pidge straightened, not having expected that response.  She glanced around at the team, smirking a little. "Voltron."

 

* * *

 

They drifted past Saturn, the sun hitting the rings just right to create a golden, shimmering disk around the planet.

It took Lance's breath away—he'd forgotten how beautiful space could be.  

"Before we go back to Earth, I think we need to form Voltron once and make sure we're all...prepared for this fight," Allura announced. 

Shiro nodded, folding his arms over his chest. "That's a good idea.  The last thing we want is to show up and not be able to defend anyone."

Coran peeked over his shoulder from the navigation deck. "That...brings up an important point.  Who...exactly is going to pilot whom?  There's six of you now."

Right...

Lance looked to Keith, who looked to Shiro, who looked to Lance.

"Lance?" Shiro prompted. 

Because it all rested on his decision, didn't it?

Lance blanched. He wet his lips and stood from his chair, turning to face the rest of the team.  "Um.  Shiro and I have been talking, and...well, Red and I sort of reconnected these last few days..."  He took a deep breath.  "I'd like to pilot Red again...if you'll have me back.  And if Keith's okay with it..."

Hunk and Pidge exchanged surprised glances.  

"Are you asking for _permission_ to...come back to the team?" Hunk asked slowly.

Lance nodded awkwardly.  "I think you should all decide...as a group..."

There was a beat of incredulity, and Lance dug his nails into his palm, waiting for the sting of another rejection.

But instead, everyone  _smiled._

"Well it’s a solid yes on my account,” Hunk said, glancing at the others.

“Same,” Pidge echoed.

Shiro was pleased, smiling at him in his fatherly fashion.  "You already have my vote."

“I would love for Lance to be back on the team," Allura agreed.   Her gaze landed on the last paladin, and her smile dwindled. "Keith?”

Keith sighed, closing his eyes. 

And Lance _knew_ why this was so hard for him.   If he accepted Lance as Red's pilot, he forfeited his own lion. And he'd have to claim the title he'd pushed away.

Or walk away.

He pinned Lance with his gaze, making solid eye contact for the first time in days.  "....Red's all yours, Lance.  Welcome back to the team."

The others sighed and grinned around them, but Lance stared only at Keith and his dark, stormy eyes.

Appreciative.

 _Proud._   

"So...if Keith's not piloting Red anymore...is he piloting Black?  Or is Shiro?" Pidge asked nervously, aware that the very same question had once torn the team apart.

Shiro looked at Keith, and Lance didn't know exactly what the look said.  But he thought it might convey something like, _your choice._

Keith nodded, the smallest of smiles taking shape on his face.  " _I_ am."

 

* * *

 

Keith stood in the central hangar.  

The new "Castle" was much smaller than the last...and actually not a castle at all. Just a nice ship.  

Instead of breaking off into their own separate hangars, the lions were stored in the central hull of the ship.  Together. 

It was pretty intimidating...seeing them all assembled like that.  Staring down at Keith. 

Assessing their new leader.

The ship wasn't the only thing that changed.  Allura had provided them all with new paladin armor—a gift from Romelle, who had chosen to stay on the Altean planet but wished to surprise the paladins with upgraded uniforms, courtesy of skilled Altean tailors.

Keith glanced down at his own wardrobe.    

The uniform was the same basic design as before, only the accents of white were mostly gone, replaced by black and gray highlights.  It also had more of a leathery feel to it rather than the bulk of the original armor.  Slimmer. Better fitting.  Sort of like the Blade attire.

Keith thought he looked pretty good...until he saw Lance. 

Lance, who emerged from the hallway in a dark red space suit, strips of black replacing those of white, following the curve of his calves and hips.  He carried his red helmet in his arms, and he was running his hand through his hair. 

Fuck. 

He _did_ look good in red. 

Keith couldn't stop staring. 

And Lance noticed.  Because he was _Lance._  

The Red Paladin gazed at him, flushing a little.  "Lookin' good, Kogane," he said, but it fell flat, lacking his usual grace and confidence.

Keith wanted to tell him the same thing, but he _couldn't._   He wasn't back there yet.  To joking and flirting.  

He wished he was, but he just...wasn't.

They turned to face their respective lions, standing in silence. 

"You're sure you're okay with all this?" Lance asked, gaze rooted to Red.  "Me taking Red. You taking Black.  Piloting so soon after everything?"

"I'm _fine_ to pilot," Keith muttered irritably.  People needed to stop looking at him like a wounded puppy.  He was fine. 

He was.  

Really. 

"And me?  Are you really okay with me...coming back?"

Keith frowned at that, finally turning to look at Lance, startled to see timid blue eyes staring back at him.  "Why wouldn't I be?"

Lance looked down, shuffling his foot back and forth. "I don't know.  I thought you might be...uncomfortable after I told you everything...that maybe you'd want someone else to pilot Red..."

Keith stared. 

No. 

No, he wasn't uncomfortable.  

He was just _confused._   He was just processing Lance showing up in his life again, joining the team, confessing right to Keith's face about his feelings.  

It was a lot to take in for someone who had spent the last six months in solitude.

"Lance, you're the _only_ person I want piloting Red," Keith found himself saying.  "No one else."   He wasn't sure he could _do_ this with anyone else by his side. 

Lance looked up at him, his eyes full and uncertain. "Really?"

Keith nodded.  "Besides.  Red chose you for a reason.  You were able to bring him back online when I couldn't even sense him.  I think you two were always meant for each other."

Lance swallowed, and he gazed back at the lions.  "Thanks, Keith.  That...means a lot."

Keith looked up at Red, hoping the lion could understand his sentiments.  He'd loved Red. He'd loved the speed, the ferocity.  But Keith had changed.  And so had Lance.  

And that didn't mean he didn't _cherish_ his time as the Red Paladin.  

It just meant he was ready to move on. 

He was ready to take another step forward.

"For the record," Lance said, "I always thought you'd make a great Black Paladin."

"Always?" Keith repeated skeptically, remembering a very angry Lance once telling him he _did not want Keith to lead him anywhere._

Lance laughed a little, glancing at him fondly. "Okay. Maybe not _always."_ He lifted a shoulder. "But...I don't know.  I guess now, it just feels..."

 _"...right,"_   Keith finished, staring up at the lion and watching golden eyes ignite. 

 

* * *

 

"Aw, man, this brings back memories," Hunk said over the com as the lions hovered in a circle, floating in space. 

"Remember when we stacked the lions on top of each other to try and form Voltron?" Lance recalled. "What losers. Whose idea was that?"

"Keith's," Pidge snickered. 

"Of course it was."

Keith rolled his eyes, glad his teammates couldn't see him smirking.  "Okay.  Are you guys ready?"

"Ready Freddy," Lance said.

"Alright then.  You know the drill." 

Together, they shot upward, focusing on that connection between them.  

.

Focusing. 

.

....focusing.

Keith pried an eye open, watching the stars fly past him in blurry streaks.  

"Uh...what's going on?" Hunk asked.  "We've been flying vertically for like thirty seconds.  We're going to hit a moon or something."

"Maybe we're all just a bit...rusty?" Pidge said, and the lions paused in their ascent, reconvening. 

"Maybe Pidge is right," Allura admitted. "Or maybe it's because we haven't formed Voltron in so long without an immediate sense of danger?  Perhaps we need to just activate our survival instincts."

"Oh no, don't you dare start with that again.  You are _not_ throwing projectiles at us like last time," Lance muttered. "You hear that Coran? Shiro?"

"Relax, we won't attack you," Shiro promised. 

"I don't think that method worked very well anyhow," Coran said.  "But...this _is_ unusual, especially since you've all worked together plenty of times before."  He paused, and Keith could almost picture him stroking his mustache, face scrunched in thought.  "Why don't you give it another go?  Really focus on your mental link this time."

" _I'm_ focused," Hunk said. "Pidge? You focusing?"

"Yeah.  But it's like there's nothing _there."_

"Come on, guys," Lance said. "We're just not _vibing._   Let's try again."

Keith frowned, adjusting his grip on the stick.  "Okay.  Round two."

They arched into the air, soaring high, soaring together.

Keith sought that connection they'd always shared, the sense of trust and loyalty and openness...

And he couldn't _find_ it. 

It was a lot like trying to communicate with Red back in his cell.  It felt like someone had simply cut the wire. 

Slammed the door.

 _Voltron,_ Keith thought desperately.

_You're trying to form Voltron._

_You need to form Voltron._

But there was _nothing._   Just static. 

Even Black felt frustrated by the lack of synergy among them. 

Keith released the stick, giving up, and the others did the same, the lions cutting off their engines and floating through space, drifting away, each of the paladins uncharacteristically silent as the weight of failure hit them. 

They couldn't form Voltron. 

They couldn't defend Earth.  

They couldn't save _anyone._

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh...not too thrilled with this chapter. There was more Klance plot originally, but then I realized I hadn't really addressed the aspects of the team that I needed to, so Klance was pushed to the next chapter. 
> 
> Songs that fit this chapter suspiciously well: 
> 
> "All I Want" by Kodaline basically sums up Keith's perspective.  
> Lance is pretty much "If you wanna love somebody" by Tom Odell.
> 
> If you don't know these songs, please, please educate yourself XD
> 
> Coming soon to a theater near you: team bonding, klangst, and smut


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. I know. It’s almost been a month since I updated. Do you even remember this story?? LMAO. 
> 
> I’m sorry. This semester’s been a bitch. I thought as a senior the workload would be less grueling but apparently it’s the time to kick students in the ass right before graduation. 
> 
> I hope this chapter is worth it. We’re getting towards the end now.
> 
> I planned a lot more for this chapter, but I didn’t want to keep you guys waiting forever, so I cut it pretty short. It picks up right where we left off. In case you don’t remember where that was…
> 
> Lance confessed his feelings, Keith is scared to let anyone in again, team reunion, Keith takes up the mantle of the Black Lion, and they realize they can’t form Voltron. 
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains smut…kind of. Not explicit smut, because I don’t know how to write that without sounding perverted. But still. I changed the rating to M, so if you don’t care for that kind of thing, you can skip the part where Keith goes to find Lance on the training deck, and just read the last few lines of the chapter to get the gist.

“Okay. Someone please tell me this is not the end of the world. Because it feels like the end of the world.  Literally.”

“Hunk, it’s gonna be okay,” Lance assured him, even if he wasn’t so sure himself.   

How were they supposed to stop Lotor if they couldn’t even form Voltron?

And…why couldn’t they?

Was it because of _Lance_?

“Perhaps we need more time to simply…reconnect,” Allura said, removing her helmet and shaking out her short hair. “We’ve only been together for a few hours.  We just need to remember how to work as a team.”

“Well…you could always try one of the team building exercises!” Coran suggested.  Chipper as ever.

Lance eyed him warily.  “Okay, but can we not handcuff ourselves together this time?”

“Yeah…or electrocute each other in that invisible maze thing,” Hunk seconded.

In his peripheral, Lance saw Keith grin just a little. 

A grudging smile.  

Pidge sighed, staring up at the Green Lion, a sad, silver sheen falling over her lenses.  “It’s like we’re back to square one…”  She looked down.  “I…didn’t think a year off would make us so…distant.”

The team glanced away, brows pinched, like they were ashamed of how quickly they’d fallen apart.  How easily they’d unraveled.

Lance couldn’t take seeing them so guilt-ridden. None of them could have predicted the way things turned out.  But it happened. Voltron was disjointed.  And now they had to fix it.

“How about instead of training…we go about it a different way,” he said.  “I mean, last time we only clicked when we got into a food fight.  Maybe this time we should take the same approach...” 

Pidge tilted her head.  “Well, we can’t gang up on Allura again; she’s a paladin now.”

“...We could gang up on Shiro?” Keith offered.

Shiro shot him a look. “Hard pass.”

“Yeah, no.” Hunk shook his head. “Getting mad at Shiro is like…the equivalent of committing a crime.  He’s like an innocent grandpa.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Shiro’s not a _grandpa_. He’s more like a cool, hot dad.”

The satisfaction melted right off Shiro’s face. “What.”

“Like…a DILF.  You know?  Like…the Mark Wahlberg of the team!”

Keith shuddered.  “Lance, please never say that again.”

Lance grinned at the annoyed, disgruntled faces of his company. 

There.  _Much better._

“Wahl...berg?” Lox repeated, dark eyes wide and curious. 

Lance slung an arm over her shoulder. “Basically, just imagine Earth’s version of Shiro.”

“Lance, Shiro _is_ Earth’s version of Shiro,” Pidge said.

Lance waved her off, savoring his friends’ exasperated huffs and playful scowls. 

“Hey…speaking of actors, how about we just have a movie night?” he offered.  “Everything’s happening so quickly.  Maybe we should just take one night to sit and talk and stuff.” 

The others shared looks of surprise and interest.  Even Mr. All-Business Kogane appeared impartial.

“Sounds like as good a plan as any,” Shiro decided. “I think we all need to rest anyway. It’s been an emotionally taxing day.”

True. Lance’s whole body felt like it’d been wrung out from hugging and crying…and watching _other_ people cry…

“Yeah…but the only movies out here are weird streaming services of aliens,” Keith reminded them.

“Hey now! I take offense to that!” Coran cried, crossing his arms on his chest and looking away, pouting. “Bii Boh Hill is an award-winning drama!”

Allura made a face that said otherwise.

“No, Keith's right.  That's why I brought a few DVDs from home,” Lance said, grinning a little.  “I’d missed watching movies last time, so I brought a bunch. Just in case.”

Allura clasped her hands together.  “I think a movie sounds like a wonderful idea.  Should we make popcorn?”

Lance chuckled.  They’d introduced Allura to popcorn three years ago and she’d fallen in love.  Bought three Costco packages to take back with her. 

“Yeah, but _Lance_ picked the movies out.  They’re probably all romcoms,” Pidge complained.

“Okay, for your _information,_ I only packed seven romcoms!”

Pidge quirked a brow.  “Out of eight?”

“….Shut up.”

 

* * *

 

In pajamas and sweat pants, the team gathered around in the ship’s common room, dimming the lights, divvying up pillows and blankets. 

Keith found it strange…seeing everyone so casual again, clean and comfortable.   It brought back memories of early morning breakfasts, when everyone was still half-awake and strewn about the kitchen of the Castle.

When Lance would stroll in late after his skin-care regimen and shower, wearing a tired, lazy smile.  Drowning his pancakes in syrup like a little kid.  Making fun of Keith for eating his dry with butter. 

Keith blinked away the images, frowning.

Thoughts of Lance needed to stop creeping up on him like that.  He needed to…compartmentalize.  Focus on the problem at hand—Voltron.  The team he was now _responsible_ for.

Keith was the Black Paladin now.  This failure fell on his shoulders, and resolving it had become his top priority, ahead of Lance, ahead of his own recovery.   He was the leader, and he wasn't going to let his friends down.  He wasn't going to let _Shiro_ down. 

So he agreed to the movie, even though sitting around doing nothing drove him mad.  He could never understand how Pidge and Lance and the others could just...bake or play video games for hours when there was so much at stake.  Keith always kept busy.  Training.  Planning. Fighting.  And with Lotor out there, plotting Earth's demise, watching a movie was the _last_ thing Keith wanted to do. But if this could bring them one step closer to forming Voltron, then he'd suffer through it.

As Pidge set up the surround sound, she explained the different projects she’d been working on these past few months on Olkarion.  She revealed that she’d loved every second of her time there.  But that she’d also missed Matt and her parents.  And the team.

This of course earned huge _awwww’s_ from both Hunk and Lance.  Pidge threw a pillow at them, flushing.

Allura briefly spoke about her time on the Altean planet, reconnecting with her people and culture.  The Alteans had all welcomed her with open arms, awed by her presence.  By her tales. 

It seemed like the Alteans did for her what Cuba had done for Lance. Patched up the holes.  Brightened her eyes.

Keith supposed that was what going home did for most people. 

He wouldn’t know.

Hunk made popcorn in four different flavors, and Lance was practically drooling when the paladin set the caramel corn down on the coffee table.

Hunk described some of the challenges in starting his business up, grateful for all the volunteers who’d helped him get off the ground.  Lance had prodded at Hunk and Shay’s relationship, and Hunk had gone pink, confessing that it was going really well.  And that he was very much in love. 

Allura and her mice squeaked in giddy happiness.  

They finally got around to Lance, and he grinned easily, claiming that nothing had really changed since his last video message.  Just that he’d been doing well at school, and that he’d made a lot of money teaching kids and tourists to surf.  Which of course, had all gone straight to tuition, so he was, in fact, poor as _dirt._  He’d been surprisingly humble about his entire experience though, focusing more on his family than himself. 

Apparently Diego was going to be a ladies man one day with Lance’s _good looks_ and the kid’s right-brain sensitivity.  Milena was a soccer champ in the making. Said she wanted to play intergalactic soccer one day. 

Marco and Liz were happy.  The shop was thriving now that several sanctions had been lifted (and because Lance had smuggled in some expensive tech from the Garrison).  Luis was having the time of his life in America and smoking too much weed.  Jessica had fallen in love for what Lance claimed was the 32nd time, and Veronica was making bank as the hotel’s new manager. 

And Sandra?  She was back in the tailoring business, ecstatic with the variety of cloth she could now work with under open trade. 

Lance’s eyes got a bit glassy when he spoke of his mother.  His posture curved inward.  His features grew a little softer.

Keith found it difficult to look at him as he spoke.  Half of him wanted to kiss Lance senseless.  The other half was terrified of each graze of contact, every stolen look.  

He felt like he was being torn apart, like his heart wanted to latch onto Lance, but his brain was racing in the other direction.  Splitting him open. 

And Lance didn’t even _realize_ how much he meant to him.  By the way Keith was acting, he probably thought he didn’t want him around at all.  Lance had basically said as much earlier in the hangar.

But Keith wanted Lance here.  He did. 

It just…hurt.

Because he couldn’t allow himself to go there.  He couldn’t tear down his walls a second time.  He wouldn’t survive the aftermath.

Overwhelmed, Keith had needed to walk off some of his emotions before the movie started.

He found his mother in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water.  She’d changed into casual clothes, and he wasn’t sure she’d ever looked more like a mom than she did now.

God, he’d missed her. 

He might have only known her for a few years now, but…she understood him on a level no one else did.  Sometimes it was annoying that she could read him so well.  But in the end, it was nice to have someone always _knowing_ what he couldn’t express in words.  Someone he didn’t have to explain his actions to.

“You watching the movie tonight?” he asked her, and she turned to him with a wry smile on her face.

“No. I have a call with Kolivan,” she said, glancing at the living room in amusement. “Plus, I think it’s important for you to share this time with your team.”

Keith looked down, running his nail over the counter.  He had a lot to say to her.  He’d had six months to figure it out, what he would tell her when he saw her again. _If_ he saw her again.

But that voice in his head kept on warning him how dangerous it was to open his heart.  So what came out of his mouth was not what he’d intended to say in the slightest.

“After the fight with Lotor…are you going back to the Blade?”  

He kept his eyes on the counter.  Too afraid to hear her confirmation.

Because they both knew she was leaving again.  That she was a soldier, and her fight wasn’t over yet.  It probably never would be. 

Her calloused hand covered his, and he glanced up at her in surprise. 

Her violet eyes pulsed with pain, and he wasn’t expecting to see that much emotion on her face. “Keith...”  

Her voice was woven with threads of sadness and guilt.  

He pulled his hand back to rub his neck, turning away. “That…was a dumb question. Sorry.”

 _She’s leaving_.

_She's leaving again._

And yeah…most young adults wouldn’t want to spend the rest of their lives with their moms glued to their side. 

But Keith hadn’t grown up with her.  He hadn’t gotten to know her yet…not all of her.  He never…he never got to ride in the bottom of the shopping cart at the grocery store.  He never got to help her prepare dinner or complain when she made him clean his room.  Stress her out when he crept out of the house as a teenager, when he came home drunk for the first time. 

And it was dumb.  Because he was Keith.  He was the lone wolf.  The boy who didn’t care.

And he _hadn’t_ cared.  Up until Cuba. 

Up until he saw what a real family was like. 

And he’d thought maybe…stupidly…they could have that.  Him, and Krolia, and Shiro.  A unit.  A family.

He’d been naïve.

He moved to leave the kitchen, but his mother grabbed hold of his wrist. 

“Keith," she said sternly, "You’re my son.  Wherever you go, whatever you do—that’s not going to change.  I will always be here for you."  Keith glanced back at her, gazing into her deep eyes.  “I know neither of us is very good with words.  But…you should know, these last few months have been the hardest months of my life.” She shook her head, blinking rapidly. “I truly thought I’d lost you.  And I _never_ want to feel that way again.”

Keith bit his lip, unsure what to say. How to say it. 

“I know you’re going through a lot right now.  And I know it’s going to take some time to get back to where we were.  But I will be here for you as long as you need me to be, understand?  Weeks. Months. The rest of time.” She grinned a little.  “I am first and foremost your mother.  Okay?”

He released a sharp breath between his lips, feeling the tears sting his eyes for the millionth time that day.  “I love you, mom.”

That.

 _That_ was what he’d meant to say.

Her eyes wilted, and she pulled him forward into a hug.  “And I love you, Keith. More than you'll ever know.”

 

* * *

 

When Keith got back to the living room, he stopped short, watching the opening credits splash blue light over his friends’ faces. 

Coran and Hunk had claimed the beanbags, the latter sitting with a giant tub of popcorn in his lap.  Allura and Lox lay in a bundle of blankets and pillows on the floor, murmuring to each other in soft whispers. Shiro was draped over his own loveseat, already half asleep.

There was only one spot left to sit.

And it was on the couch, right between Lance and Pidge.

Keith swallowed. 

He wasn’t sure he could make it through an entire movie that close to Lance without losing control. 

Lance noticed his hesitation, and for just a split second, he looked _heartbroken_.  But he schooled his expression at expert speed.  And he came to Keith’s rescue. 

Like always.

“Hey, Pidge,” Lance said softly, “why don’t you scooch over here and give Keith the end seat?”

Keith’s gut sank.  Lance was interpreting this all wrong.

He probably still thought Keith felt uncomfortable around him.  And he _did._ Just not for the reason Lance was thinking.  It wasn't that Lance's feelings made him feel _awkward._   No, they made him _nervous,_ because they made him want things he couldn't have.  And Keith didn't trust himself.

Pidge shot him a dubious look.  “Why don’t you just move over and give him _your_ end seat?”

Lance pursed his lips.  “Because…I like my seat?”

“I’m sorry, are you Dr. Sheldon Cooper?”

“Just get over here, Pidge.”

“Yeah right. So you can cling to me like a child during all the scary parts?”

“Pidge, it’s _The Goonies._ There are no scary parts.  Except that part with the fish rake…and the dead guy in the freezer..." Lance trailed off, probably thinking about all the other scary bits.  He shook his head.  "You know what, just quit being a fucking _gremlin_ and move your ass.”

Keith didn’t want to draw any more attention to his own hesitation, so he moved for the middle seat to end the dispute, sitting down between them.  Rigid.

Lance pressed himself into the far edge of the couch, and Keith was pretty sure the boy was holding his breath.  

Okay. 

This was fine.

He could make it through a kid’s movie without jumping Lance’s bones.  He’d made it this far, hadn’t he?  

As the team watched the adventure unfold, Keith listened to Lance quote the most memorable lines, followed by Pidge’s complaints and Hunk’s shushing.  Allura, Coran, and Lox kept asking questions, so Shiro kept pausing the movie so the others could explain, talking over one another.  Which usually resulted in a frustrated Pidge and Lance dying with laughter.

Keith just watched, feeling nostalgic.  A bit warm.  A bit…normal again.

But toward the end of the movie, his eyes began to droop, and he felt himself melt into the cushions of the couch, falling away.

  

* * *

 

Keith stirred.

It was dark.  The TV was off.

A few sleeping bodies covered the carpet, wrapped in blankets and hidden beneath pillows.  Slumped over on beanbag chairs.

Something heavy and warm leaned against Keith, soft hair tickling his cheek.  

...Pidge?

Keith stilled.

No.  He _knew_ that smell.

After three years, Lance still smelled like citrus and vanilla body wash.  Somehow, he still smelled of the sea. 

Slowly, Keith’s eyes trailed down to Lance’s head resting on his shoulder.  His body rising and falling with gentle breaths.

Dead asleep.

Keith probably should have panicked at the intimacy, but he’d _missed_ being this close to Lance, feeling his warmth seep into him.  He missed the days when he didn't have to think twice about sitting next to Lance.  When they were just…them. 

Just Keith and Lance.  

He lifted his hand, lightly trailing his fingers through Lance’s dark hair. 

 _Soft._   

It was strange, but out of everyone, it felt like Lance had changed the _least._   He might have gotten a bit older, a bit hotter, but even after three years, he was still a walking paradox.  Flamboyant but self-conscious.  Vociferous but soft.  Charismatic but infuriating.  Arrogant and selfless. A wise ditz with a heart of gold.  

He was the contradictory constant Keith needed in his life to keep him grounded.  Keep him steady. 

Without him, he'd lost his way.  

And Keith feared that dependence.

He felt Lance sigh against him, and the paladin's eyes started to flutter open.

 _Shit_.

Keith immediately pretended to be asleep, dropping his hand back to his lap.  Steadying his breath.

He felt Lance slowly come to, lifting his head.  Then the boy stiffened as he realized who he was snuggling up against.  Instantly, the weight on Keith’s arm vanished.

Keith heard Lance get up and walk away, and he sat there, sinking.  _Don’t give up on me, yet,_ a part of him begged.  _I’m trying. I’m trying to work this out. Just…hold out a little longer._  

The other half him recognized that this was good.  That Keith couldn’t keep stringing Lance along when he had no intention of letting him in any time soon.  Lance deserved so much better.

Still...

A moment later, Keith felt something soft settle over him, soft and warm and...fleecy.

He felt Lance tuck the blanket around him gently, careful not to wake him. And then Keith felt soft knuckles against his cheek. A soft, tender kiss on his head. 

The hand fell away, and Keith listened to Lance’s footsteps fade.

His heart burned in his chest.

  _Just a little longer…_

  

* * *

 

They’d thought the movie night would help them reconnect.  Help them reestablish their network.  Their cohesiveness. 

But come morning, the team still couldn’t form Voltron. And after a frustrating few hours trying to resolve the issue, the team gave up, irritated and hangry.  

While Hunk made lunch, Pidge and Shiro spoke to Holt and the Garrison to come up with a game plan. There’d been no sign of Lotor yet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking around the corner, planning his attack. Or already executing it.

They brought the Garrison up to speed on the threat of the Drajion missile, and how the team was calling in the Coalition to help defend Earth.  Iverson asked why Voltron didn’t just come down to Earth to start implementing a defense strategy, and the paladins had claimed they were having "technical difficulties."  Which definitely raised a few brows. 

They proposed to have their shit together when the rest of the Coalition arrived, and as a unit, the assembled army would arrive at the Garrison base together. 

That meant the team needed to get Voltron up and running in a few days.  And it didn't look promising.

.

That night they'd landed on Mars, deciding it would allow them to keep an eye on things while conducting their tests in private. 

Tests that continued to fail.  Over and over again. 

Keith didn't understand how a team that had fought together countless times could suddenly stop functioning altogether.  Even the lions had expressed their dissatisfaction, sending pulses of frustration and disappointment down the paladins' connections. 

.

Another day passed without any luck, and time was ticking. 

Keith was beginning to panic.

What if Lotor showed up before the Coalition?

How were they supposed to defeat an army and destroy a missile without _Voltron_?

But as the pressure and tension continued to stack up against the paladins, the connection between them worsened.

Keith asked Shiro to try piloting the Black Lion, just in case.  But Black didn’t even respond to the former paladin.  Apparently Shiro felt Black wasn’t trying to _deny_ him the role, just trying to convey to him that switching paladins wasn’t the solution.  It wouldn’t help. It wasn’t _worth_ it. 

“We need to bond more as a team,” Lance claimed.  They stood on the bridge, discussing possible strategies to escape from this rut.  “Maybe do something more team-oriented this time.  With a goal in mind.  Like…like…” His eyes lit up.  “I know! Monsters and Mana. That’s perfect.”

Keith crossed his arms.  “Lotor could show up any second and you want to play D&D?”

“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

“We don’t have time to play games.”

Lance scowled.  “Well we should _make_ time if it means we can actually form Voltron again.”

Hunk looked conflicted, shifting from foot to foot.  Shiro was grim, glaring at the wall.  Pidge sat in her chair off to the side, typing furiously, only half-listening.  And Allura and Lance were the only two still trying to come up with new ideas. Each more ridiculous than the last.  

“…Maybe we can’t,” Keith said. 

The team turned to look at him.  Frowning in confusion.

“…What?” Allura asked quietly.

Keith swallowed.  “Maybe there’s a reason we split up in the first place. Maybe the team is...broken.  Maybe this isn’t fixable, and that’s why we can’t form Voltron.”

They stared at him, taken aback.  Afraid of the truth his statement might carry. 

Allura wilted, shaking her head.  “Keith, you can’t mean that.”

"Why else would this be happening?"

Lance narrowed his eyes.  “Keith.  You _know_ the real reason behind this.”

Keith didn’t like the tone in Lance’s voice.  It was icy.  Sharp.  “And what's that, Lance?"

“You’ve closed yourself off,” Lance said, voice dipping.  “You won’t talk about what happened with Lotor. You won’t let any of us in.  Every time we try to form Voltron, it's like running into a solid wall on your end.”

Keith unfolded his arms, hands dropping to his sides.  “You’re saying this is my fault?”

“I’m _saying_ you need to open up or we’re never getting anywhere." Lance's expression softened slightly. "The movies, the games—they're the only way I know how to break the ice with you.”

Keith felt five pairs of eyes on him, and he clenched his fists.   “It’s not just me,” he said, his gaze hardening. “You’re all holding something back—I can feel the tension between the lions. I thought it was just frustration at first, but it's deeper than that."

They glanced around at each other, eyes flicking away guiltily.

Lance raised his brows. "So what, are you all mad at each other for splitting up?  Is that what it is?"

They avoided each other's gazes, but the silence was as good an answer as any.

Hunk appeared to be the only one surprised by the revelation. His shoulders fell.  “Wait, is he right? Are you guys still holding grudges?  I thought our decision to take a break was _mutual_.”

“Well we didn’t have much of a choice when you’d already moved out, and Allura was packing for Altea 2.0,” Pidge grumbled, still typing away on her laptop.

“I hadn’t moved out,” Hunk protested.  “I was just visiting Shay a lot.”  He frowned over at Pidge.  “It’s not like you even noticed.  You never came out of your room.”

Pidge glowered.  “Why would I, when no one was ever _here_?”

They scowled at one another.  

Allura stepped forward, raising her finger. “I’d just like to point out that I was only packing for a short trip.  Not leaving for good.  That was never my intention.”

Shiro scoffed quietly. “Short. _Right_.”

She crossed her arms, facing him with a look of hostile incredulity. “I hadn’t seen my people in 10,000 years, Shiro. I think out of everyone’s reasons for leaving, mine was the most valid.”

Shiro actually rolled his eyes—something Keith wasn't sure he'd ever seen Shiro do when it wasn't in jest.  It was so...juvenile. 

“You knew you were cut off from all signals, and you still stayed there for six months.  You just cut us all out, and some of us _paid_ for it,” Shiro said, and Keith was stunned to see his anger slip through the cracks. Anger on Keith’s behalf, because if Allura and Coran had been here, maybe Keith would have been rescued sooner.

Allura bristled at the underlying blame. “I didn’t think you’d need me.  I’d thought you’d _retired_.  Isn’t that the reason we really stopped functioning as a team?  Because you no longer wanted to fly the Black Lion?”

Lance jumped in at that. “This is _not_ Shiro’s fault.  Keith’s the one who pulled away from the team in the first place. _Again_.”

Keith spun on him, agitated. “And you’re the one who _left_ the team!”

“So did _you_!”

“Paladins,” Coran cried, stepping between them, brows upturned.  "Rehashing the past isn’t going to solve anything.  We all made mistakes.  We all could have tried harder to work through the challenges we faced as a team.  Even I could have done more to hold us together, but I admit, I was eager to see what had become of my people after so many deca-phoebs." He raised his palms.  "What’s done is done. It’s time to come together and move on.”

“Eyes forward,” Lox agreed softly, hiding behind him.

Lance and Keith glared at one another, seething.  But then Lance’s eyes pinched, and he turned away.  “Let me know when you find another way to form Voltron.  I need to blow off some steam.”

Keith watched him walk away, the heat dissipating.

The cold seeping in.

  

* * *

 

After Lance disappeared, Hunk left to the kitchen to show Lox how to cook (his go-to stress relief), and the others drifted off to their cabins or different parts of the ship.  Stewing.  Angry.

Disconnected.

Keith stayed rooted in place, unable to move.

Lance…had been right.

He _had_ pushed the team away first. 

After Lance had left, he’d already begun distancing himself, wary of ephemeral friendships.  He’d acted like he didn’t need them, so they left—because they thought they weren’t hurting anyone by doing so.  They thought he wouldn’t care. 

His actions had started the domino effect that led them here.  

Why was Keith like that?

Why did he do that?

Why couldn’t he _stop_?

“Keith,” Allura said gently, peering at him cautiously.  He had a feeling he'd been standing there for a while based on the genuine concern on her face.  “You’ve got quite a few unread messages here.”

She gestured to the list of files up on the holo-screen.  The videos their families and the Garrison had sent to communicate with them. 

The videos he’d never _touched_.

They were each labeled by the name of the intended recipient, and if the message was meant for the whole team, it was titled _Voltron._   There were about ten of these at the top—no doubt the Garrison grasping at straws these last few months.

Below that, there were about fifty titled _Keith_. 

And there was only _one_ person who ever sent him anything.

“I’m going to send these to you so I can clean up the Castle’s directory a bit. They’re…taking up a lot of space.” 

Keith should have just told her to delete them.

But something in him protested.

“Right.  Thanks.”

  

* * *

 

Keith sat down in the pilot chair of the Black Lion, cross-legged, and he cautiously opened up the list Allura had sent him. 

They contained videos Keith never opened or responded to.  He couldn’t.  He’d known if he saw Lance’s face and heard his voice, the feelings would rise up like bile and burn at his insides. 

Lance had hurt him, and he couldn’t allow himself to get invested.  He’d listened to the updates Hunk and Pidge gave him. But he’d refused to open Lance’s direct messages and see how wonderful life was without them.

He hadn’t realized just how many messages Lance had sent him until now.

Keith clicked on the video with the earliest date, and Lance’s nervous grin popped up on the screen.  He was sitting in his bedroom in Cuba.  Younger.  Scrawnier.  Unpierced.  

“Hey…” Lance began, but his smile had already vanished, and he was jittery with nerves. “So I know we left things on a really…weird note…” He looked away awkwardly. “I just…haven’t heard from you since everything happened.   Everyone else has sent me a message by now, and I get that you’re probably still mad at me for everything…but…it’d be nice to see your stupid face, I guess…”

Milena opened the door behind him, peeking her head in. “Ooohh, Lance is face-timing his boyf—”

Lance screamed and threw a pillow at her.  The screen went blank.

_Okay.  That wasn't so bad._

Keith took a deep breath and clicked on the next video.

“Hey, Mullet.  Shiro told me you took down a whole fleet of Galra ships by yourself.”  Lance beamed at him, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Impressive, man.  Although, I bet it wasn’t a _whole_ fleet.  You know I can’t trust Shiro when it comes to you. He just likes to brag about his little brother.”

He leaned on his hand.

“He says you’ve been kind of distant lately, with the rest of the team.  You're not pushing everyone away again, right?”

Keith bit the inside of his cheek, hating how well Lance knew him.  

He’d predicted Keith’s move all along. 

Keith played the third message, and he almost wished he hadn’t.  

Lance was sitting with his knees to his chest this time, and there were tears in his eyes.  “I need to talk to you, Keith.  I need to know what was going through your head the last time we saw each other.  I feel like I’m stuck, like I can’t move on with my life knowing you’re out there…please just… _talk_ to me.”

Keith replayed that one again, feeling his own eyes water at the desperate look on Lance’s face. 

It took him a while to muster the courage to keep going.

“So I know you’re not going to reply to this,” Lance began, and his eyes were a little hard.  “But I’m going to imagine that you actually watch these messages and don’t completely hate me.”

Keith closed his eyes, his heart dropping. 

Hate?

He couldn’t hate Lance.

Not ever.

“Since it’s pointless to ask you for updates, I’m just going to fill you in on my amazing, space-less life and pretend you care.”  He sat back in his chair, grinning.  “For a few months I was up at the Garrison, giving flight lessons and catching Iverson up on all things Voltron.   But it just made me miss piloting Red and…you know…” Lance swallowed the rest of his sentence.  “I mean, I love attention, but not _that_ much attention.  Everyone treated me like this celebrity, and it was annoying.  Griffin also just pissed me off, thinking he knew more about space than I did.  _Loser_.  So...anyway, I decided to come home to Cuba permanently, where no one knows anything about Voltron or space and I can just be a normal guy.”

Lance adopted a timid expression Keith hadn’t seen very often. 

“Also I uh…I applied for college down here, actually, and I got in.  Surprising, I know.” He laughed softly. “I think I’m going to try for a communications degree.  It’s going to take a while.  I can’t afford to go full time, so I’m planning to take a few classes each semester while I work.”  He snapped his fingers. “Right. _Work_.  It’s summer here, so I’m offering surf lessons during the day, and then bartending at night, which is kind of fun.  Good way to pick up chicks.” His grin faltered, and his eyes widened. _“Not_ that I do that!”

Keith felt a watery smile pull at his lips.

There were a lot like this.  Random updates about Lance or his siblings.  Sometimes they were simple snippets, like _I somehow got roped into being Milena’s assistant soccer coach—_ or — _I just made the best peanut butter cookies in the whole fucking galaxy and your sorry ass doesn’t get any._

Sometimes Lance would rant about school or work or how hard it was living at home again after being on his own for all his adolescence.

Sometimes they were a little deeper than that.  

“I just finished my first year of college, and I did better than I thought I would. And I enjoyed it. I really did. It’s just…” He sighed.  “Half the time I was spacing out during class thinking of all the planets I’ve seen.  All the aliens I’ve met.  It’s just kind of hard to make friends here.  I can’t tell them about such a big chunk of my life that it’s really hard to connect with people.  And everyone is so… _ignorant_ of everything.  They’re all so obsessed over such small, insignificant things, while you’re all out there saving entire galaxies.” Lance shook his head.  “I feel like no one has their _eyes_ open, you know?”

Keith could imagine how difficult the adjustment would be.  To live among people who had no idea what you’d done for them.  Who had no idea what was happening outside their pocket of existence. 

Even Lance’s family couldn’t fully comprehend what he’d been through. 

“Keith! Congrats on defeating the last of the Galra!  You guys _did_ it. I knew you could.  Have some cactus juice to celebrate, yeah? Drunk Keith is my favorite.”

Keith shook his head fondly, swiping to the next video.

“So…I met this girl,” Lance said quietly, and Keith noticed that he was distinctly older than the last vlog.  He’d pierced his ears.  He’d gotten a lot more sun.  “We’ve been dating for about six months now.  She’s a waitress at the restaurant I bartend at.  The best surfer I’ve ever met.  And I didn’t tell Hunk, but I think she’d give his cooking skills a run for their money."

Keith felt a jealous twinge in his gut.  An unwarranted possessiveness.  

“Anyway, I guess…I guess I’m happy.  Things are going good.  Hope you’re doing okay. I worry about you.”

Three videos later, Lance was glaring at him, _hard_.  Keith had never _seen_ Lance look so angry.  Truly, truly angry.  It was kind of terrifying.

What had made him look like that?

Lance didn’t speak for a few moments.  Then he swallowed.  “You fucking ruined everything. You know that?  Jesus, Keith. I fucking _hate_ you.”

The words sent a cold, numbing pain through Keith’s chest.  Novacaine to his arteries. 

It was so…raw, the way Lance had said it.  Keith could hear the pain there.  The pain Keith had inflicted.

He hesitated to click on the next video.  But he couldn’t help himself.  He was roped in now.

Lance sat back in his chair now, staring right into the camera.  He looked a little…empty inside.  Vacant.   Not much like Lance at all.

“I didn’t mean what I said last time.  I don’t hate you.  Not even a little.” 

Keith held his breath as Lance’s dark eyes burrowed into his own.

“I don’t really know why I bother doing this.  I know you’re not going to watch these.” Lance huffed out a hollow laugh. “Honestly, at this point, I kind of hope you _don’t_.”  

Keith watched the mirthless smile fade.  

 “Still…part of me keeps hoping that one day, you might change your mind.  That maybe you’ll care enough to reply just once.”  Lance looked down, his brows drawing together sadly.  “Just _once.”_

 Keith was getting toward the end now.

“Hey, are you guys alright?” Lance asked, eyes laced with concern. “I haven’t heard back from anyone for few months now.  The Garrison hasn’t received anything, and they can’t get in touch with the Castle.  Just…send me a text message if you’re okay. A shit emoji.  Anything.”

Keith played the last message.

This time Lance looked truly upset, and he ran his hand through his hair, stressed.  “I don’t know where you guys have gone or what trouble you’ve gotten yourselves into.  It’s been about eight months since I’ve heard anything.  Maybe you’re just busy.  Maybe…maybe I’m just not in the front of your brains.” He winced a little at his own sentence. “But I’ve decided it’s not…healthy for me to keep doing this.  I’ve already lost a girlfriend because I’m too invested in Voltron, in my past. I have to let you go.”

Keith shook his head.  _No, you don’t._

“Good luck out there, Keith. I’ll be watching the skies...”

Lance grinned halfheartedly, and the screen went dark.

Keith chewed his lip, feeling his eyes burn, his throat swell.

He’d blocked Lance out for a year, but Lance hadn’t given up on him for _three_. 

He’d abandoned his life, his school, his work, his family.  All to save Keith. 

And Keith had still pushed him away. 

 

* * *

 

Keith found Lance on the training deck.

He wielded the old broadsword he’d used back on Portux. Slicing through bots.  A bit sloppy, if Keith was being honest.   But for not even touching a bayard in three years—pretty impressive.

When Lance saw Keith watching him, he straightened. “End simulation.”

The bots vanished beneath the floor.

Lance wiped back the slick hair from his forehead.  “Come to yell at me some more?”

Keith’s feet were moving on their own, and he marched straight for Lance.

Lance’s eyes widened as he approached. “Wha...have you been...crying?”

Instead of answering him, Keith clasped the back of his neck and jerked him forward—

—right into a kiss.

Lance froze in his grip, stunned, unmoving. “Mmmph— _Keith_.”

Keith pulled back slightly to look him in the eye.

Incredulity. Confusion.  

But if Keith looked deep enough—desire. 

He came in again, but Lance pressed his hand to his chest, halting him.  His face was red.  “What do you think you’re _doing_?  I thought you didn’t want this?”

“Lance,” Keith growled, stepping forward until their mouths were one mistake apart.   “Shut up.”

Lance’s eyes flickered between his, and Keith thought he saw a flash of pain there.  But then Lance was sweeping forward, kissing him deeply, kissing him hard.

They stumbled back into the wall, Keith’s shoulder blades striking the cool metal.  He could feel all of Lance, flush against him.   His slick, sweat-streaked arms.  His abs.  His lips.

He burned.

Keith wrapped his arms around Lance’s neck, his heart thundering in his ears.

He was excited. He was terrified.  Fuck, he felt _too_ much. He wanted to _drown_ his feelings.

And Lance…Lance had always been his ocean. 

Turbulent.  Unpredictable.  Waves crashing with exuberance, a life of their own.   But at the same time, Lance was clear, majestic waters.  Soothing Keith.  Lifting him up.  Taking him back to shore.

The perfect place to drown.

Lance gripped at the ends of Keith’s hair, tilting his head so he could kiss him properly.  He murmured Keith’s name against their lips, and Keith felt the heat shoot straight for his belly at the gravelly baritone.

After Lance had left the team, Keith had spent a few weeks desperately trying to forget him. 

And that had meant hooking up with anyone that could help push thoughts of Lance away.

Keith was ashamed of how many men he’d slept with, hoping, praying, that someone could overwhelm images of blue eyes and golden skin.  Replace it with something else.  _Anything_ else.

But the hookups had just left Keith feeling empty.  And dirty.  And pathetic. 

They’d all felt _wrong_.  The wrong physique beneath him—a football player or a runner, not a soccer player, not a swimmer.  Galra eyes instead of small, blue oceans.  Hands that wielded a blade, never a guitar. 

But this…this finally felt _right_. 

Too right.

Lance shifted his hips, and Keith made a ragged, breathless sound he wasn’t proud of.  Chuckling, Lance licked into Keith’s open mouth, and Keith just…fell apart.

He crumbled.

Lance was relentless.  He’d brought a fervor Keith hadn’t anticipated, almost like he was screaming his feelings at Keith.  Channeling his pain and anger into something _ravenous_.

Keith couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t stay afloat in these waters.  Every touch was too hot.  Too perfect.  Too _Lance_.

He wasn’t prepared.

Their kisses quickly became desperate and sloppy, overeager.  Lance tugged at Keith’s belt loops, yanking him closer, and he nestled one leg between Keith’s, grinning into their kiss.  

Keith knew Lance could feel his erratic heartbeat through their meshed torsos, but it gave him solace to feel Lance’s beat just as loudly.  Thrumming hungrily.  

They both wanted this, didn’t they? Hadn’t they _always_?

Keith slid his gloved hands beneath Lance’s shirt, over the panes of his chest, down his sides.  Lance shuddered at the sensation, and he released his hands on Keith to help him tug his shirt over his head, leaving Keith with a bare-chested Lance and far too much skin to kiss. 

And a direct view of an old, faded scar.   A light pink ribbon against tanned skin. 

Keith ran his fingers over the wound, sobering slightly as he remembered exactly _why_ Lance bore it, but Lance lifted his chin up, smiling softly at him as he captured his mouth again. 

Keith trailed his hands over the boy’s shoulders—broader than he remembered.  Body smooth.  Toned.  Lance moved like he he’d danced back in Cuba, gracefully, _sensually_.  As if this were all natural to him.  As natural as breathing.

Part of Keith just wanted to step back and admire the way Lance’s muscles moved, the dimples of his spine and hips and shoulder blades.  The other part of him wanted Lance close—so much closer than this.

Evidently, Lance was on the same page.

With a languid forcefulness, he thrust his hips into Keith’s, and Keith moaned, low in his throat, grinding back against Lance’s thigh.  They swallowed each other’s gasps.

Lance’s hands dug into the skin at Keith’s waist where his shirt had ridden up, and his kisses traveled down to Keith’s throat, his neck.  He sucked at the skin there, and Keith bit his lip to keep the sounds in. 

Shit. 

Lance was _good_ at this.

Keith hadn’t known what to expect.  He knew Lance wasn’t inexperienced…but he hadn’t expected _this_.

He threaded his fingers through Lance’s hair, tugging with each thrust Lance made against him, closing his eyes.

“F…fuck…” Lance gasped into Keith’s neck, kissing the places his words scorched.  “Ah— _haaa_ …”

Keith yanked him back into a kiss to shut him up.  He couldn’t handle Lance’s noises.  He was already tight in his pants.  If Lance kept this up, Keith wouldn’t last long at all, and they’d barely even _started_.

As though Lance had read his mind, he spun them around, and Keith was yanked backward against Lance’s chest.  They hit the wall. 

Shit.

Keith almost _whined_ because he could no longer see or kiss the paladin.  It was disorienting.   “Lance…what the fuck…”

Lance snickered against his ear, low and sensual, and Keith leaned his head back to rest against the bridge of Lance’s shoulder, panting.  He could feel Lance against his ass, his length hard and hot through his sweat pants and— _fuck_ , Keith was never going to survive this.

Lance’s hands snaked under Keith’s shirt, over his front and down his happy trail.  Slipping under the hem of Keith’s black jeans, just over the soft skin there, then back up.  Leaving Keith weak-kneed.

“Fucking tease,” Keith hissed, grinding back against Lance's dick unforgivingly.  

Lance’s breath hitched.

Smirking, Keith did it again, slow and raw, wanting to feel and map every inch of him.  Wanting Lance to feel the same terrifying chaos Keith did in his heart.

“Virgin, my _ass_ ,” Lance murmured in his ear, and Keith could detect the jealousy there.  And something else he couldn’t pinpoint.  He drew Keith's shirt up and over his head, hands roaming over his bare chest, lips tracing his bare shoulder.

Keith leaned his head back, slotting their lips together once more because Lance could fucking _kiss_. 

And then Lance’s hand was on Keith’s belt buckle, unzipping his jeans.  Before Keith could even _think_ Lance was palming him through his boxers.

He broke with a whimper.

His knees buckled, and he slid to the ground, taking Lance down with him out of pure spite.

Lance had the audacity to _laugh—_ the bastard—and Keith shoved him onto his back, crawling on top of him.  Forcing himself between Lance’s legs.   “Shut up,” he muttered. 

“I didn’t _say_ anything,” Lance grinned, his face flushed.

Lust looked good on him.

Keith tugged Lance’s sweatpants down low over his hips to give him some breathing room.  He tried not to let his eyes linger too long on the exposed strip of his boxers and the bulge beneath them.

“Like what you see?”

 _Yes,_ Keith thought, admiring Lance's abs and V-line.  The leather necklace draped over his collarbone.  

He bent down to kiss that stupid, smug grin off Lance’s face, curling his fingers around the seashell of Lance's necklace.  Lance moaned into him, biting and tugging on Keith’s lower lip.  He reached up to run his hands over Keith’s body, but Keith wasn’t having it. 

He took Lance’s wrists in his fists and pinned them to the ground next to his head.

No more _touching_.

Not until Keith had his turn.

He heard Lance’s furious protests cut short when Keith slowly, lazily, ground against him, their underwear leaving nothing to the imagination.

Oh, fuck.

That felt _good_.

Lance bucked upwards in agreement, practically begging for it.  Keith only caught a breathy _shit_ in the string of curses leaving the Cuban’s mouth, and he smiled.

Lance was intoxicating, and Keith savored his reactions, the way he writhed beneath him.   The way he panted and hissed with desire, lashes fluttering, muscles clenching, tongue chasing—it was all so much better than Keith had imagined.

Keith drove his hips into Lance’s again, struggling not to release a throaty gasp of pleasure at the heat and pressure building between them. 

He was so _hot_.  The skin of their meshed torsos— _blistering_.

He leaned down to nibble at Lance’s ear, taking his new piercing in his mouth as he rutted against him, finding a rhythm—a steady, burning pace.  Lance’s legs tightened around Keith’s thighs, heels digging into his ass, and Keith grinned at the response, leaving an open-mouthed kiss behind Lance’s ear.

 “ _Keith_ ,” Lance bit out, and it sounded so _desperate_ it caught him off guard. 

“What?” he panted, glancing down at Lance and the frustration on his face.

“Let me fucking _touch_ you.”

They locked eyes.  The blue in Lance’s irises had been swallowed by his blown pupils.  He was _aching_ to touch Keith, biting his lip, breathing heavily…

Keith released him almost unconsciously, and Lance’s hands instantly shot to Keith’s waist, pulling him forward into another kiss.  He ran his hands over Keith’s skin frantically—down his spine, along his waist, under his jeans to grope his ass.  

Drowning.

Keith was _drowning_.

Then Lance sat up _,_ keeping Keith in his lap as he rocked into him.  _Hard_.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Keith choked.  He shuddered, wrapping his arms around Lance’s neck, his nails digging crescents into freckled shoulders.

He let out a high-pitched groan, but he didn’t feel too embarrassed about it because Lance released one right after, even more undone.   They were catalysts for each other—these shaky, guttural sounds they’d never heard each other make. 

 

                       

Lance lifted Keith up and dragged him back down again, right where he wanted him.  He panted into Keith’s ear, hot and wet and _ragged_.  “I’ve wanted this…Keith, I’ve wanted this _so_ long…”

Keith fisted Lance’s soft hair.  “Shut up.”  

It was the third time he’d said it.  But Lance didn’t listen. Because he was _Lance_.

Keith leaned back, placing one hand on the floor behind him so he could get just the right angle, just the right amount of friction.  He tried not to moan.

Tried and failed.

Lance leaned forward and kissed the tattoo on Keith’s chest—a running list of the blades who'd died, who'd sacrificed themselves for Voltron.  Then he kissed Keith’s nipple, teeth grazing, tongue flicking, and Keith’s arm almost gave out beneath him.

 _Shit_.

“I fucking love you…you know that?”

“ _Lance_.”

The hand that wasn’t holding Keith up slid between them, dipping beneath the hem of Keith’s boxers, cupping flesh.

Keith sucked in through his teeth. 

“I _love_ you, Keith,” Lance repeated, voice cracking.  “So…fucking much…it _hurts_ how much…god I just _want_ you—”

“ _Dammit_ , Lance.”  Keith shoved him back abruptly, staring at Lance’s swollen lips.  His wide-blown eyes and mussed hair and flushed cheeks.   “Don’t say that.”

Lance’s heaving chest tempered under Keith’s palm.  His hold slackened on Keith, and he withdrew his hand.  “…What?”

“Don’t say you love me,” Keith whispered hollowly, glaring at him. 

And suddenly he could feel the cold reality of his surroundings—the hard surface on his knees, the uncomfortable draft in the room, the sweat trickling down his spine, his erection aching for release…

Lance’s brow knit together in confusion and…and _pain_. 

Fuck.

What the hell was Keith even doing?

To say he’d lost control here would be a gross understatement.  He’d _jumped_ Lance.  He’d given into his impulses without thinking.  Without clarifying exactly what this was.  What this meant. 

And he’d hurt Lance in the process.   _Again_.  Which was the last thing he’d wanted to do.

“Keith…” Lance said weakly, and it sounded so broken, Keith could hardly look at him.  “What do you _want_ from me…?”

Keith swallowed painfully. 

What did he _want...?_

Mechanically, he crawled out of Lance’s lap and stood, snatching his shirt off the floor and zipping his pants.  Blinking the tears out of his eyes as he walked away.  

“ _Nothing_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....Don't look at me like that. I told you there would be angst. 
> 
> But now it's all uphill. Mostly. 
> 
> Also, I'm not going to be updating until after November 1, because I have a shit ton due these next two weeks. But I still hope to finish this story before the last season airs in December! (Although I plan to upload an epilogue chapter post season 8)
> 
> Finally, I'd appreciate any feedback on the smut bc I rarely publish that kind of genre so critique would be really helpful. Was it too much? Too little? Cringey? Unrealistic? lol 
> 
>  
> 
> [ART ](http://gtgrandom.tumblr.com/post/179728719749/when-you-dont-understand-anatomy-and-youre-too)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, thanks for the support so far! Definitely pushed me to keep at it.
> 
> Next time: cookie dough, healing, and our star child Lance


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Long chapter ahead, with pretty much the climax of the story, I’d say?
> 
> Also, I've added a few pieces of art to this fic now. I think one back in like chapter 8 of the hug in the Red Lion, and the smutty scene in 16. 
> 
> Also, while there IS a ton of Klance, there’s also a lot of the team, and a major focus on Lance. Because I think this is really his story, despite coming from both POV’s. And God, I wish the show gave him this spotlight, and maybe they will the last season, but he’s a character with so much potential, I just had to milk it this chapter. 
> 
> There's one more chapter left, then an epilogue. Can't believe we made this far without a hiatus. So unlike me lmao.

They were back to hating each other.  Apparently.

Keith avoided Lance in every capacity.  When Lance showed up to breakfast, he was the first to rinse his plate.  When Lance brought up a new idea to form Voltron, Keith shot it down immediately.

Their friends were starting to notice the new hostility between them.  

Shiro had tried to confront Lance about it, and Lance had assured him that as Keith’s brother, he really _did not want to know_.

And honestly?  Lance didn’t really understand why _Keith_ was upset, why he felt he had the right to be mad at all.  Keith had left _him_ with the worst case of blueballs in all of space history.  That was on him.

Lance had respected Keith’s privacy, his bizarre way of handling this.   He wasn’t going to force a conversation on him when Keith couldn’t even look him in the eye.  But it was difficult to just…put this behind them.

They’d made out.  They’d gone at it on the training deck, where anyone could have walked in on them.  They’d both clearly been ready to take it all the way. 

…What were they supposed to _be_ to each other after that?

Obviously, Keith still felt something toward Lance, even if it _was_ just sexual.  Which…hurt a hell of a lot in its own right.

Lance had thought for once, someone loved him for _him_.  And…and now he didn’t know what to think.   Had Keith truly just wanted a sexual relationship with him? Was it just a hookup in Keith’s eyes?  A way to resolve the sexual tension and nothing more?

And why had he lost his shit when Lance had said he’d loved him?  He already _knew_ that.

The guy made no sense.  It didn’t help that he wouldn’t even tell Lance how he really felt.  He’d only said he didn’t know what he felt anymore, that he wasn’t sure he wanted to love Lance again. 

Did that mean he still loved him somewhere under that scowl?

Probably not.

It was even worse when they’d tried to form Voltron these last two days.  Keith was completely closed off, Lance was an emotional wreck, and Pidge, Hunk, and Allura still had too many unresolved issues among them.

Their team was a fucking nightmare. 

And Lance tried—he _tried_ to get them back together. He tried to be the glue.

But he couldn’t do it without Keith.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith bit his lip, struggling to finish his last sit-up. 

He collapsed back on the ground, panting. 

Dammit.

He was still too weak.

There was no way he’d get back to where he needed to be by the time Lotor arrived.  Keith had lost too much muscle mass in that prison cell.  He’d lost his upper body strength.  If it came to combat between them, Lotor would have no trouble snapping Keith in half.

How was he supposed to lead when he looked like this?

He sighed, clambering to his feet.  Swaying a little against the spots that assaulted his vision. 

Yeah…he probably shouldn’t have skipped lunch. 

But he just…couldn’t be in the same room as Lance for that long.  He couldn’t stand the pain in the boy’s eyes.  The confusion.  The heartbreak.

If Keith just…stayed away, maybe then Lance would realize it was fruitless to keep waiting for him, and he’d finally let Keith go. 

That was what Keith wanted, wasn’t it?

To keep everyone just far enough out of reach so that after this fight, if he was still alive, the goodbye wouldn’t cripple him? 

There was a knock, and Keith dragged his eyes to the door, wary.

“Keith, it’s me.”

Shiro.

“I’m not talking to you about Lance.”

A sigh.  “I’m not here to talk about that.  Can I come in?”

Keith didn’t answer, but the door slid open anyway, and Shiro walked into his room. 

His eyes were deep and concerned, and he crossed his arms, lifting his broad shoulders like he was about to launch into a motivational speech. 

“Keith, I’m worried about you,” he put carefully.

Keith glanced away.   _There he goes_.  “Shiro, I told you. I’m fine.  Okay?”

“No.  You’re not.”

Keith frowned, letting a bit of his irritation slip out.  “Why? Just because _you_ weren’t okay when you were taken by Galra?” 

Shiro looked at him sadly, brows raised.  “Yeah.  That’s exactly why.”

Keith blinked.  He hadn’t thought Shiro would be so candid about this.  He shook his head dismissively.  “Shiro. I’m not you.  I didn’t go through the same things you did.  They didn’t fucking chop off my arm.  I’m fine.”

“Do you keep telling yourself that because you think as a leader you have to be strong?  That you _have_ to be fine?”

Keith’s gut twisted.  “I don’t…”

“Because I understand that, Keith. Better than anyone.” Shiro closed his eyes, dropping his shoulders.  “I had to keep my emotions in check because I was responsible for all of you.  I hid my pain because I thought leaders were supposed to be calm and collected and unaffected.  But you know what?  Closing myself off like that allowed Haggar to infiltrate our team, and no one realized I was gone because my clone displayed as much emotion and vulnerability as I did. When he acted strange, you all dismissed it, because nothing could be wrong with _Shiro_. He was always _fine_.”

Keith winced.  He of all people should have known that clone wasn’t the man who’d raised him.  But he’d missed the signs.  He hadn’t stuck around long enough to see the disparities.  “Shiro…”

“Keith, the only way to heal is to acknowledge that there’s something that _needs_ healing.”

Shiro stepped forward, but Keith backed away.  “Stop pushing this.”

“I’m going to keep pushing it until you give me something to work with.” 

Annoyed, Keith brushed passed him for the door, but Shiro caught his wrist.  “Keith.”

Keith swallowed.  He tried to pull away, but the older boy had an iron grip on him.  He glared at him over his shoulder. “What do you want me to _say_?”

Shiro’s dark eyes flashed at the belligerence in Keith’s tone.  “I don’t know, Keith. How about you start with why you’re so fucking _angry_?” 

Keith was too agitated to reflect on the fact that Shiro just _swore_.  “Maybe because you all keep treating me like a broken toy? Because you ambush me in my room and try and pull some kind of psychotherapy?”

He tugged on his arm again, but Shiro held him in place.  “We’re treating you like someone who’s been through _trauma_.  There’s more to this. What is it?”

“I’m not doing this right now.”

“Are you mad because it took us so long to find you?”

Keith shook his head, tugging.  “No.”

“Is it because the team fell apart?  Are you mad at me for wanting to leave?”

“I… _no_ …”

Shiro’s grip tightened around Keith’s wrist.  “Then what’s going on?  Why does it feel like I’ve _lost_ you?”

Keith scowled, glaring up at Shiro, eyes stinging.  “I’m _angry_ because…”  _Fuck it_. “Because I know the only reason you’re all here is because of _me_.  If I would have just stayed dead none of you ever would have gotten back together.”  He jerked his arm away, and this time Shiro let him go.  “Because we’re _not_ family. We’re not even _friends_.  We’re just strangers thrown into a series of…messed up coincidences. And after this is over, we’ll all just go our separate ways.  _Again_.” He heard his own voice break off and crumble.  “I thought we were more than that, but I was wrong.  And I’m mad at _myself_ for thinking otherwise.”

Shiro stared at him for a long moment, ashen.  “ ….What do you mean _stayed_ dead?”

Keith stilled, throwing his gaze away.

….Shit.

That wasn’t supposed to slip out.

“ _Keith_. What are you talking about?” Shiro demanded, his voice a bit desperate, a bit scared.

“Nothing.”

“Dammit, Keith.”  He grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing Keith to look at him, and Keith felt his eyes prickle again, against his will.  “Stayed dead?  What does that _mean_?”

Keith shoved him back, seething.  “Fine.  You really want to hear it?”  He clenched his fists to keep his hands from trembling.   “You want to hear that I endured psychological torture for months?  That Haggar tried to dig through my mind every day, and I did everything in my power to fend her off?” He swallowed the knot climbing his throat.  “That I thought I was never going to see you or Lance or anyone again so I accepted my death as reality?  That I convinced myself I was already _dead_ so I’d stop feeling _pain_?”  Keith couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t see through the tears in his eyes.  But he couldn’t stop the rest of it from spilling out of his mouth.  “You really want to know that Lotor left the guards with instructions to keep me alive, but _I_ was the one who stopped eating?!”

Shiro’s face broke at that, and his arms dropped to his sides numbly. “Keith.”

“Are you fucking satisfied, now?” Keith bit out, the last of his aggression fading, giving way to misery.  “I thought I was dead, Shiro. I wanted to die.  I was _ready_ to die…”

Shiro pulled him into a hug, smothering the rest of his words, and Keith didn’t have it in him to resist.  He collapsed into the older boy, body shuddering in his futile attempts to rein in his sobs. 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro whispered into his hair.  He held him tightly, holding him up, rubbing his back.  “I’m so sorry, Keith.”

Keith clutched at Shiro’s shirt, breaking apart. 

Ripping open the scabs.  The ugly wounds he’d tried to forget.  Memories he’d tried to put behind him.

But maybe this time around he’d heal the right way.

  

* * *

 

 

Lance sat in his lion, calling in.

Holt had been kind enough to set up a video chat with Lance’s mother, streaming all the way from Cuba to the Garrison, and bouncing the signal straight up to Mars without any interception required. 

Lance hadn’t spoken to his family since he’d departed a month ago. He was a little antsy to see how they’d been doing without him.

The screen opened to reveal a woman peering too close to the camera, adjusting the screen of Lance’s old laptop.

“Hey, ma.”

She started, sitting back in her chair with a chirp of delight.  She beamed at him, rosy cheeks and honey eyes, and he felt his chest expand at the sight of her.   But then she leaned forward again, squinting.  “Mijo! Why do you look so _sad_?”

Lance’s smile faded.  “…How can you tell?”

“I can _always_ tell.”

Lance sighed, sinking low in his chair.  “I guess…things are just different than I expected.  The team’s sort of…fallen apart.   I’m trying to fix things, but…it’s hard.  And I’m not doing a very good job.”

She studied him for a moment, clasping her hands together in her lap.  “Mijo…do you remember when you broke my favorite garden pot?”

Lance smirked.  “Yeah. I thought you were going to whoop my ass, but you didn’t.”

She glared at him for swearing, but she nodded. “I came home, and you ran up to me, sobbing.” She closed her eyes. “I was angry.  But then I saw what you’d done, and I just couldn’t be mad at you.”

Lance looked at her curiously, and she smiled.

“Instead of playing with your new toy cars, you spent the entire afternoon pasting the pot back together.  And lord was it horrendous.”

He chuckled, recalling the broken plates of terra cotta patched together with Elmer’s.  

“It was the most pitiful thing I’d ever seen.  But it made me so happy.  Because I knew then and there I’d raised the most beautiful boy in the world.”

“Ma…”

She shook her head to silence him.  “Lance, you’ve always been so thoughtful.  You’ve always done your very best to do the right thing.  And even though you broke the pot, you put in the effort to right your wrong. You showed me just how much you cared.”  She looked at him with a fond smile.  “Show your team how much you care, mijo.  Someday you’ll look back and laugh about the broken pot, and it won’t matter how it broke, or whose fault it was.  Your friends will be forever grateful that you took the time to put it back together the best way you knew how.”

 

* * *

 

Lance decided to take his mother’s advice.  If he couldn’t mend his relationship with Keith right now, then he’d try and put the rest of them back together the best he could.  Keith could be the last piece to be glued in.  The final shard.

Lance started by telling Shiro that Allura wanted to apologize for what happened the other day.  And he told _Allura_ that Shiro wanted to apologize for what he’d said before, and he’d requested that she meet him on the bridge. 

He’d spied on them when they met up, eager to see how they’d resolve their resentment.

He was disappointed by how utterly anticlimactic it was.

They’d both stared at each other for a while before immediately apologizing to each other and claiming that both of them had overstepped. That neither of them had meant any of it.   

They’d laughed at each other’s emotional outburst, embarrassed, but then they were smiling fondly at one another, chuckling quietly.   They decided to work together to come up with the logistics of Earth’s defense strategy, and the tension died.  Replaced by an old, comforting familiarity between them.

Lance had gotten the hell out of there before they figured out he’d set them up.

 

* * *

 

Later, he found Pidge in her room, typing up nonsense on her laptop, sitting cross-legged on her chair. 

He sat down on her bed, sprawling across it just to annoy her. “Where’s Hunk?”

“Probably recording another message for his girlfriend.”

Lance observed her carefully.  Her shoulders were stiff.  Her mouth drawn into a tight line.

“You know…I never thought you two would become my closest friends,” he said, folding his elbow beneath his head.  “Back at the Garrison, we were sort of just thrown together.  Had nothing in common.  I didn’t even know you were a girl back then.  But now…you’re my best friends.  And…I can’t have my two best buddies angry at each other.”

Pidge side-eyed him.  “I’m not mad.”

“Yeah.  And I’m a computer genius.”

She huffed, shaking her head.  “Fine. I’m a little upset.”

“But you don’t _want_ to be upset, do you?  I mean, it’s hard to stay mad at Hunk. It’s like…really hard.”

She shrugged. “Hunk’s the one who left _first_.  You don’t leave your best friend behind.”

“No, you don’t,” Lance agreed. “But do you really think that’s what Hunk thought he was _doing_?”

She looked at him doubtfully, twisting in her chair.

“Pidge, Hunk loves you.   He just…he doesn’t know how to handle conflict. He disappears instead of confronting it. Removes himself until things cool down.”  Lance looked her over sadly. “He was never leaving _you_ , Pidge.  That probably never crossed his mind.  He was just leaving the _drama_.  Honestly, this whole thing is just a big miscommunication error.  On everyone’s part.”

Pidge frowned, staring at the dark screen of her laptop thoughtfully.

“Don’t you remember how much fun you two had?  The way you guys could speak Techno-geek to each other, and no one else could understand?  They way you finished each other sentences and always worked as a unit?  Don’t let a misunderstanding get in the way of that, Pidge. Go talk to Hunk.”  He reflected. “Actually, you don’t have to say anything.  Just ask him to play a video game. He’ll understand what that means.”

“Mm.”

“Come on, for me? For your best buddy?”

Pidge closed her laptop.  “I’ll…consider it.  But only if you talk to Keith and sort out your issues.”

Shit, Lance wasn’t falling for _that_ again.

“I’ll….consider it.”

Pidge gazed at him for a moment with a contemplative look on her face.  Lance stared back, realizing that wow, her glasses were insanely dirty.   He leaned forward and stole the things off her face.  She glared at him.

“Smudgy,” he explained as he wiped them on his shirt.

“Gee, thanks.”

Lance observed the glasses, holding them up to the light.  Satisfied, he handed them back to her, and her glower softened.  “Hey…Lance?”

“Yeah?”

She readjusted the glasses on her nose, sending him a cautious glance.  “I never told you before.  But when you almost died back on Portux…it was…” She closed her eyes.  “It felt like I’d lost Matt all over again.”

Lance’s heart sank at the confession.    

“I should have told you that before.  That you were important to me.”  

“I knew, Pidge.”

“I still should have _told_ you.”  She sighed, irritated with herself.  “I guess…I’ve never really been good at the whole friend thing.  Expressing feelings, you know?  Technology has always been easier to work with.  And it’s been there for me when people weren’t….”

Lance smiled at her gently.  “ _I’m_ here for you, Pidge.”

“ _Are_ you?”

Her uncertainty burned. 

Lance hated how he’d made her doubt him, doubt his love for his friends. But he couldn’t keep reflecting on past decisions, on the ripples he’d left behind.  He had to make up for them now.  In the present.

“Yeah.  From now on, you’re stuck with me, Pigeon. I'll be like  bubblegum on your shoe.” 

She grinned at him.  “More like dog shit.”

Lance snorted, tossing a pillow in her face.

 

* * *

 

Lance sat on the couch in the living room, watching Pidge and Hunk work on developing the blueprints for some new Garrison tech, speaking their own language.  Shiro and Keith were discussing something serious in the corner, back on their old wavelength. 

Keith caught Lance staring, and the Black Paladin looked away quickly, frowning.

Lance released a defeated breath, wondering if they would ever go back to normal.  Wondering if that was even possible. Maybe he’d lost Keith for good.

And…and he wasn’t even really sure _how_.

Allura sat down beside him on the couch, curling her legs beneath her and setting a salad in her lap—purply leaves drowned in dressing.  “The Coalition is on their way.  Probably just a day out now.”

“And we still can’t form Voltron,” Lance muttered.

“Not yet.”

He glanced at her.  “You still have hope?”

“Of course I do.”

He felt his lips pull up at the edges.  “That’s always amazed me.  How much of an optimist you are.  You always see the light end of the tunnel, and that attitude has really helped the team through its slumps.”

She looked thoughtful.  “Well…so have you.”

He snickered.  _Yeah, right._   

“Lance, do you remember when you told me I was the heart of Voltron?”

“Yeah.”  His pep talk had given Allura the confidence to get them out of that gravity-crushing energy field.  She’d saved them all.

“I think you may have been wrong about that,” she admitted.  “I may have powers.  I may share a deep connection with Voltron.  But I think y _ou’re_ the heart of this team.”

He scoffed, looking up at the ceiling.  “Nah. I’m just an arm.”

She sighed, placing her hand on his knee, and he glanced at her again.  “Lance.  Don’t you see how much closer you’ve brought us already?”

“I’m pretty sure I started the biggest fight this team has ever seen.”

“But we’ve finally been honest with each other.  Now we’re starting over. It’s sort of like…what do you call it?  An X-ray?  You showed us where we were broken. And now we can start to address our problems.”

Lance glanced at Pidge and Hunk. Keith and Shiro.  Back to their old ways almost overnight.  Lance had played a minor role in getting them there, but still.

He _had_ gotten them there…hadn’t he?

“You’re a buffer, Lance.  You’re a buffer between me and Pidge and Hunk. You’re a mouthpiece for Keith, and you tie him to the rest of us.  Hold us together.”

“Maybe I _used_ to tie him to the team,” Lance murmured, watching the dark-haired boy sadly.  “Now he wants nothing to do with me.”

 _Nothing_ , Keith had said as he’d walked away.

Dragging Lance's heart behind him.

Allura followed his gaze to the Black Paladin.  “He loves you, Lance.   I think he has for a very long time.”

Lance swallowed.   It was strange, hearing her say it. Having someone else acknowledge it.  Especially Allura of all people. “No…he doesn’t. Not anymore.”

Keith had loved him once.  Back when Lance was unsure of his heart.  Now, they’d switched places, passing each other by.  Missing one another by inches. 

“You know, in Altea we often compared love to a juniberry flower.” 

Lance looked at her, his lips quirking.  “Are you going poet on me?”

She took a bite of her salad, munching thoughtfully.  “Without the right amount of care, the flower may wilt and even die, but its seed lives on, below the ground.”  She glanced at Keith again.  “If you water the seed again, nurture it, and give it time, the flower will grow _back_.”    

 

* * *

 

 Keith wiped his brow, ending the simulation. Deciding he should call it quits for tonight. 

 _I know training helps keep your mind off of other things,_ Shiro had said, _but your body is still recovering. You have to work up to where you’d been before.  It’s frustrating. But it’s the only way you’re going to build your strength back—slowly._

Keith had to admit — coming clean to Shiro about what had happened with Lotor had already restored a bit of his old confidence. His old drive. 

Now that Shiro knew what he’d been through, he could stop looking at Keith like a piece of fragile glass.  He could help him move forward and get through this.  And knowing there was a way out of this rut…that Keith would become stronger, more resilient...that gave Keith hope. 

It gave him hope that he'd go back to being the Keith his team knew. 

Eventually.

“Master Kogane.”

Keith turned to the young Invenian poking her head into the room.   She was wearing one of Lance’s long-sleeved shirts—he’d given her several when the desert-dweller revealed she didn’t have any clothes suitable for the cold of space. 

“…Lox?”

She stepped onto the training deck, hands behind her back, staring at him with those big black eyes.  

“Uh…what’s up?”

She looked him over, and she bit her lip.  “Please…teach me?”

He stared at her for a moment, puzzled.  Then her eyes darted to his bayard, and he raised his brows.  “You mean…to fight?” 

She nodded. 

“…Why?”

Her brow furrowed, wrinkles in skin of blue.   “Done hiding.  Want to leave Portux on own.  Stop bad men.  Free other slaves.”

“You want to go after the men who took you?”  Keith interpreted.  “To stop alien trafficking?”

She nodded again.  “And protect sisters.”

Keith understood that.  Wanting to become stronger to protect those you love, to make a difference. He was less sure about the vendetta bit, but….

“I guess I could show you a few moves.”

Her face lit up. Black eyes crinkling in the ripples of her smile.

 

* * *

 

 

They sat on the edge of the training deck, sharing a pleasant stretch of silence.  Catching their breaths.

Lox had impressed him.  She was a quick learner.  And extremely nimble—something he’d remembered from Portux.  Someday soon, she would bring hell to the trafficking industry.

He side-eyed her, finding her presence oddly…relieving compared to the others.  Less stressful.  

“I never thanked you, for finding me,” he said quietly. “But…I wouldn’t be here without you, Lox.  I owe you one.”

She shook her head, grinning.  “Debt repaid.”

“Right…”  He smirked. “Although, it sounds like Lance didn’t give you much of a choice.”   Shiro had explained how Lance had ambushed the Invenian in her secret dwelling and practically begged her to come with them, telling her that the life of a paladin was at stake.  He couldn't blame her for saying yes.

Her eyes lifted.  “Scared.”

“...What?”

“Lance.  Scared for you.  _Worried_.”

His chest grew heavy.  “Oh.”

“Loyal servant,” she commended.

Keith chuckled, but his throat was a little tight.  It was always harder to breathe when he thought of the Red Paladin.  “Not a servant, Lox.  I told you, I’m not _actually_ the king of Cuba.”

“Then…he is…guard?”

“Kind of.”  Keith grinned a little.  “More like…a partner.  My right hand.”

She studied him, a knowing smile spreading over her face.  “Special.”

He wasn’t sure if she meant Lance or the nature of their relationship.  But he supposed it didn’t matter either way.

“Yeah,” he said softly.  “ _Special_.”

She placed a cool hand on his forearm, drawing his gaze.  “Special things easy to lose.  Must hold close.” 

Keith figured she would know that better than anyone.  After all, her people once made their _living_ off lost treasures. 

He swallowed.  “I’m not very good at holding onto things.”

“No," she agreed.   “But _Lance_ is.”

 

* * *

 

Lance stirred in the chocolate chips, finding the whole baking thing pretty therapeutic. 

Tonight everyone had sat down for dinner together, even Keith.

His friends were back to talking and joking.  Poking fun.  Speaking about tomorrow and their next steps, how to proceed without Voltron. Just in case.  

It had been nice.  Normal even.

 _Almost_ normal.

Keith had sat across from Lance, and Lance had felt his eyes on him all through dinner. Probably glaring daggers at him, because that’s what they did now.

But Lance couldn’t be sure—he’d avoided looking at Keith the entire time. 

It was too painful. 

And Lance…Lance was allowed to be mad.  In fact, he deserved an _apology_ for Keith’s psycho behavior these last few days.

So he’d chatted with his friends and ignored the emo blob in his peripheral. 

It probably wasn’t what Allura had in mind when she’d said to "water the seed" and shit, but Lance couldn’t help it.  Keith had bruised his heart. 

“Are you…baking?”

Lance tensed at Keith’s voice, but he didn’t look up. 

What was he still doing _up_?  Lance thought everyone had gone to bed hours ago. 

Was Keith having trouble sleeping again?

 _Who cares?_  Part of him thought. _He's a jerk._

 _Yeah, but you're also in love with that jerk,_ his other half helpfully pointed out. 

“I’m making peanut butter cookies for the team,” Lance responded lightly. “Pidge didn’t believe that I could make something edible. So I’m going to prove her wrong and make twenty bucks while I’m at it.”

“I’ve eaten your food before," Keith said. "I could just tell her you can cook.”

Lance shrugged, glancing up irritably.  “I want to prove her wrong myself.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and Keith looked a little unsure of himself.  Like this conversation was his weird way of trying to fix things, and he didn’t know how else to do it. 

Lance’s gaze softened slightly, his anger receding. 

Then Keith averted his eyes and stuck his hands in his pockets—a suit-yourself gesture—and walked away.

Lance’s mouth parted. 

_….That’s it?_

That was all he had to say to Lance after everything?

Not even a ' _sorry'_?

Lance bit his lip, watching the paladin leave.  Calmly.  Indifferently.  Like he was entirely unaffected by the state of their relationship.

 _Prick_.

Lance grabbed one of the dough balls off the tray and _chucked_ it at the back of Keith’s head.

The dough made contact, and Keith halted. Shoulders stiff. Fists clenched.

Half the mixture stuck to his hair, the rest of it falling onto his back and the floor in a sticky heap.

 _Turn around, turn around, turn around_ , Lance begged. _Give me a reaction.  Yell at me.  Curse at me.  Show me you still care._

Keith spun around, livid. “Are you fucking nine years old?”

Without even thinking, Lance shot another right for Keith’s face.  The paladin dodged it, gaping at Lance.  The dough splattered against the kitchen wall.

Keith raised his hands.  “You’re _wasting_ the cookie dough.”

Lance grabbed another handful of the peanut butter goop, and Keith retrieved a plate off the drying rack to use as a shield, ducking back behind the island to hide from Lance’s assault.

“What the _hell_ is wrong with you?” Lance cried, throwing one ball after another.  Not even caring that his aim was off.  That he was merely coating the side of the island in eggs and flower.

Keith grabbed one of the dough balls from the ground and blindly flung it back in Lance’s direction, hitting him in the shoulder.   “ _You’re_ the one attacking _me_!”

Lance rolled around the island, striking Keith in the leg as he dipped away.  “You’re just going to pretend nothing ever happened?!  Pretend we didn’t low-key fuck each other on the training deck last week?”

Keith scrambled out of sight. “ _Yes_!”

Lance paused, frowning. 

He didn’t think Keith would actually admit to it.  

He grabbed another fistful of dough, kneading it in his palm.  How could Keith just shrug it off?  Put it out of mind? Forget?

How could _Lance_ pretend he’d never held Keith that way? That he’d never seen the way Keith moved against him?  The way the small of his back rocked and dipped so smoothly, like he’d done it a million times?  How could Lance block out the taste of him, the raw ferocity that was Keith?

It was ingrained in his mind forever, and it was all _Keith’s_ fault!

His hesitation granted Keith the perfect opportunity to tackle him from the side and wrestle the bowl out of his hands.   They rolled in flour on the ground, grunting as they fought. 

Lance smeared cookie dough down Keith’s face and hair, and Keith chucked the bowl into the other room in rage.

At that point, Lance wasn’t even sure what was happening anymore.

They were tumbling around on the kitchen floor, gripping at one another, trying to pin the other down.  Fisting hair and kneeing guts.

_Fucking Keith and his stupid fucking face._

_His stupid hair all sticky with cookie dough._

Lance hated him.

He _hated_ him for making him _love_ him so goddamn much.

Keith quickly gained the upper hand—he always _was_ better at close combat.  He locked his elbow around Lance’s neck and tugged.

Shit.

“Truce! _Truce_ ,” Lance muttered, unable to breathe.

“Are you done being a delinquent?” Keith questioned, and Lance slammed his hand down on the floor to signal that he was actually _dying_.  

Keith released him, and they both fell flat against the floor, panting.  Swearing as they rolled onto their backs. Side by side.

Lance chuckled mirthlessly, right on the edge of a hysterical breakdown. 

_How did it come to this?_

_How did they come full circle to the boys who couldn’t stand one another? Who couldn’t be in the same room without fighting?_

_How?_

Lance half-expected Keith to get up and leave him with the mess at any moment.   But the bastard stayed there, staring up at the ceiling.  Chest rising and falling, slower and slower.

Lance turned his head, observing the boy’s profile.  “You’re fucking confusing, you know that?”

Keith’s face was covered in sugary flour.  He sighed.  “…I know.”

Lance shook his head, his chest tight and unbearable. “I can’t just _forget_ about what happened.  And I don’t just mean last week.  I mean any of it.  I had three years to get you out of my head, Keith, and I couldn’t.  It’s not just…going _away_.  Especially when you won’t give me a clear answer about how you feel.”

“Lance, I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Well, we _need_ to.”

Lance sat up, dragging Keith upright with him.  Keith made an irritated sound, but he stayed put, finally meeting Lance’s gaze.  His eyes looked like violet galaxies, like supernovas in the kitchen lights. Damn him and his good looks.

“I’m sorry I hit you in the head with cookie dough.  But I’m _pissed_ at you,” Lance said, and Keith glanced away, biting his lip. 

“I know…”

A beat passed. 

_Another._

“…Why’d you do it?” Lance asked, his voice cracking.  “If you didn’t want… _this_ …then why did you kiss me?”

Keith closed his eyes.  “I…don’t know…”

Lance hung his head.  Right. 

He couldn’t be mad at Keith for not knowing his own feelings.  He’d told him he would wait for him to figure it out.  He just didn’t realize it would be so painful.

Keith released a shaky breath.  “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Lance.”

_Then what were you trying to do?_

_What do you want?_

_Why won't you tell me?_

A cold silence fell between them, and Lance hated how deafening it was.  

“I didn’t mean to hurt you either,” Lance said once he found his voice, looking back up at the paladin.   “I’d always planned on leaving.  I didn’t expect us to get as close as we did back home.  It caught me off guard.”

“But we _did_ get close,” Keith muttered.  “And you _still_ left.”

“I didn’t know you _loved_ me.”

Keith looked down.  “Would you have come with us?  If you’d known?”

Lance opened his mouth and closed it again. 

Keith huffed, like he’d expected that answer.

Dammit.  That wasn’t _fair._

Lance shook his head in frustration.  “Keith.  You kissed me and left the planet a second later.    Do you not realize what that did to me?  How cruel that was of you?”  He glared.  “You knew I had to stay, you _knew_ I’d made up my mind, and you kissed me anyway.  What the hell would you have done in my position?”

“ _I_ was cruel?” Keith cried, his calm mask splintering, eyes flaring.  For the first time, he sounded truly emotional, like he wasn’t holding anything back. “You’re the one who dragged us down to your house and introduced us to your family.  You told me I could be a _part_ of it—just to rip it all away.” His voice _shook_.  “You _know_ I don’t let people in easily, Lance.  You _know_ I don’t trust them.  But you still pretended everything was fine when you knew you were going to leave all along.  _That_ was cruel.”

“So was _leaving_ me on the floor of the training deck with a super massive _boner_!” Lance yelled. 

Too loudly.

Keith glanced away, his face reddening.  “Yeah...” He winced, wiping some of the dough off his face. “Sorry.  If it makes you feel better, I was miserable too.”

Lance closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the soft Keith he’d known in Cuba.  The boy who was in love with him.  Who cooked with Lance’s family and helped his brother run his garage and had looked so adorably terrifying after Lance had wrestled him to the ground and dumped glitter all over his face.  _That_ was the Keith he was fighting for now. 

And maybe Allura was right.  Maybe he really _was_ still in there.  Buried under the rubble of too many walls.

“Look, Keith…I had a lot of time to think about what could have been.  For a few months, I was angry at you.  Super angry. I hated that you never once responded to any of my messages. I hated that I couldn’t move on without comparing everyone to the goddamn idiot in space. But the rest of the time?” He bent his head to look at Keith earnestly, openly. “The rest of the time, I loved you.  I wanted to see you again and I wanted to touch you and hold you and kiss you _right_.”

“Lance, stop,” Keith pleaded.  He looked as terrified as Lance felt.  

“ _Why_?” Lance pressed. “Tell me to stop feeling this way.  Tell me it’s pointless.  Tell me you don’t feel anything, Keith.  And I’ll let you go.”

Keith wasn’t looking at him.

“I…” 

“I’ll wait, Keith.  I’ll wait _forever_ if you want me to. But you have to tell me if there’s hope.  If your feelings are dead.  I can handle your answer.  But I can’t handle… _this_.”

Keith swallowed, gaze flicking over Lance.  “They’re not dead,” he whispered sadly, and Lance’s chest swelled. 

Not dead.  Not _dead!_

“But…it _is_ pointless when you’re just going back to Earth in the end," Keith said.  "You belong there.  I don’t.”

Lance shook his head in disbelief. 

Keith still had feelings for Lance.  He just didn’t trust him.

“I told you, Keith.  I’m staying for the fight. For this war.  After that, I don’t know what will happen to Voltron, where I’ll end up.  But we _can_ be together _now_ and see where it takes us.” Lance raised his palms. “For all we know, Lotor could blast us out of the sky at any moment.  So shouldn’t we be together while we still can?  Why isn’t that enough?”

“Because you broke my _heart_ ,” Keith whispered. 

At the surprise he saw on Lance’s face, he lowered his gaze.  Embarrassed. 

“….What?”

“You _broke_ me, Lance,” he said softly.  “And I’m not letting you do it again.  I can’t come back from that.  Not a second time.”

_…Oh._

Lance finally put it all together—the magnitude of Keith’s feelings, the impact of Lance’s deliberate choice to leave him despite his buried feelings.   Keith’s all or nothing paradigm.

Keith had loved Lance, and in his eyes, Lance had abandoned him. 

He hadn’t just left the team. He’d left _Keith_.

And this…this distance and uncertainty was all the aftermath of that choice.  The fear of repetition.

_Jeez..._

Lance sat on his knees, bending forward to brush some of the dough off Keith’s cheek.  Hand lingering. 

Keith didn’t shy away from him.  If anything, he seemed to lean into Lance’s hand.

“Keith, I can’t stay in space forever.  But that doesn’t mean I can just let you _go_.  That I can walk away from this like it never meant anything.”  Lance brushed his thumb along Keith’s pale skin.  “It just means I’ll have to visit home every now and then.  And I hope that when I do, you’ll come _with_ me.” 

Keith shot him a cautious look.  A _curious_ look.

“My family never stopped talking about you after you left.  They _loved_ you.  It was obnoxious, really.  Your little kissing episode put me through torment.”  Lance rolled his eyes. “When’s _Keith_ gonna visit?  Are you and Keith _dating_ yet?  Do you send each other space _nudes_?”

Keith released a fond, defeated breath, cramming his eyes shut to block his own tears.  

“I’m sick of the half-assed relationships, the flings, dating just to curb my loneliness.  I want something _real_.  I want _you_.  Space or no space.”  Lance leaned even closer, hoping the other boy could see how much he meant the words he said.  “So…so if we do this, I’m in it for the long haul.  You and me.  Till the very end.  Through all the shit life throws at us.  I _promise_.”

Keith stared at him, blinking rapidly, overwhelmed by Lance’s conviction.  But then his doubts surfaced again, and he shook his head, knocking Lance’s hand away.  “Everyone left, Lance.  There was no fight to fight anymore and they just…packed up and went their separate ways.  They all had families to turn to or people to find or places to go.  All I had was _Shiro_ , and he wanted to go back to Earth too.” He looked annoyed with himself for getting emotional, wiping at his eyes furiously. “What happens when this fight ends again?  Then what?  This…this is all I’ve _got_.”

“Keith, c’mere,” Lance said sadly, and he drew Keith into his embrace, breathing in the scent of peanut butter.   Keith was rigid at first, unyielding, but then he finally melted against Lance and held him back.  

Tightly.

A bit desperately.

He released a shaky gasp into Lance’s neck.   “I…” He swallowed.  Took a deep breath.  “I _love_ you, Lance.  And it’s fucking _terrifying_.”

Lance closed his eyes, breaking at the confession he’d longed to hear for weeks now. “I know. I love you too. _So_ _much_ , Keith.  I know it’s scary.  But you just have to trust me again, okay?”

Keith peeled back to look at him. Uncertain.

“Trust me with _this_ one more time,” Lance repeated, placing his hand over Keith’s heart.  “Now I know I have it, and I’ll be careful with it.  Okay?”

Keith glanced down at his hand and back to his face. Searching for the truth in Lance’s gaze.

“Please, Keith.  Give us a chance.”

Keith bit his lip, searching, _searching_.

Then he dipped his chin, the slightest of nods. 

“ _Yeah_?” Lance asked, breathless.

Keith nodded again, and Lance smiled so wide it hurt.

They stared at one another, and Keith’s eyes began to pool with water.  His lip trembled under his teeth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Lance said, his own eyes prickling. “Don’t cry.  Or I’ll start crying too.”

Keith released a choked sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh.  “I can’t help it.”

Lance felt hot tears slide over his cheeks.  He wiped at them, sniffling.  “Dammit, Keith.”

“Sorry.”

They cried together, raw and vulnerable and pathetic.  Keith’s eyes and nose were red, his cheeks blotchy, hair mussed.  Covered in flour and sugar.

But Lance had never seen a more beautiful person in his life.

                                                          

He breathed out, a mix of amusement and relief, and his gaze flickered over Keith’s face, down to his mouth.   Slowly, Lance leaned forward, capturing Keith’s lips in a gentle kiss.

It was chaste.  Soft.  And _so_ much better than the ones they’d shared on the training deck.

Which…surprisingly had nothing to do with the sugar on Keith’s lips.

Keith exhaled against him, his breath warm against Lance’s chin.  Tentative, he pressed himself into Lance, slotting their lips together.   Lance could taste salty tears.

It burned, kissing Keith.  It was slow and languid and raw, and it killed him to know he’d put Keith through such pain.  That they’d both wasted so much time.

Lance rested his forehead against Keith’s, hand covering his beating chest.  “Say it again,” he whispered.

Keith leaned into him, grazing his nose.  “Say what?”

“Say you love me.”

Keith slid his hands up to the sides of Lance’s neck, his thumbs brushing his jaw tenderly.  “I _love_ you, idiot.”

“Now say it without glaring at me.  And with a less insulting term of endearment.”

Keith chuckled softly, smiling a little through the tears.  A smile Lance had missed more than anything.  It pinned him to the stars.

“…I love you, sharpshooter.”

Lance was pretty sure he’d just grown wings.

He was _flying_.

"Don't make me regret it," Keith added with a smirk. 

Lance yanked him back into a hug, grinning. "I won't."

They held onto one another for an hour after that, waiting for the tears to dry, exhausted.  Snickering at the cookie dough stains on their clothes, the flour in their hair.

Gripping tight to their hearts.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith woke up in soft sheets and…

And Lance.

Lance lay on his back with one arm around Keith and one strewn above his head.  He was wearing his eye mask, and Keith found himself grinning up at him.

It was scary, being here with Lance, pressed up against his body.

He was frightened of his future, of how easily Lance could hurt him.  How quickly his life could fly off the rails if something happened to him.  If Keith _lost_ him.  

He’d made himself vulnerable… _willingly_. 

But Keith also felt _safe_.

Safer than he’d ever been.  _Loved_ more than he’d ever imagined.

And yeah, he was still a little broken.  He wasn’t done healing yet.  Not even close. 

But he thought that maybe Lance was exactly what he needed to get back on his feet. 

Lance loved him.  Unconditionally.  And for once in Keith’s life, he felt like he was finally _enough_ for someone.   In some ways, probably too much to handle.

It was new.

It was _good_.

Lance shifted, pulling his mask up to peek down at Keith. “You checking me out?”

Keith glared.  “Just thinking about how stupid your eye mask is.”

Lance grinned that lazy, smug grin.  “You’re just jealous.”

He leaned down to capture Keith’s lips, rolling on top of him, the sheets tangled between them. 

Keith sighed into the kiss, lashes fluttering at the way Lance’s fingers brushed over his neck, the back of his head.

Lance pulled back to smile at him, tracing the tattoo on his chest. “This is real, right?  Last night was real?”

Keith smirked up at him. “It better have been. That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Lance ducked his head, laughing.  He bit his lip, looking back and forth between Keith’s eyes.  “Really, though?”

Keith nodded, his fingers ghosting over Lance’s bicep.  Lance turned red, and he nuzzled into Keith’s neck like he was embarrassed.

But it was true.  Keith had never _felt_ that much during sex. He’d been hypersensitive to Lance’s touch.  And knowing how Lance felt…it’d been an entirely new experience.

Thank god for Keith’s slip of tongue.

After mopping up the kitchen, they’d both decided they needed to shower.

But it was Keith who proposed they do so together—only to burn the deepest shade of red upon hearing it actually tumble from his mouth.

Lance had been too surprised to tease him.  “Are you sure?” he’d asked him.  “I don’t want to rush this…”

Keith had looked at him like he was a moron, and Lance had laughed, tugging him down to the showers with a boyish enthusiasm.

This time around they’d gone slow.

Unhurried.

 _Deliberate_.

Lance had taken his time admiring Keith’s skin, kissing each and every one of his scars as he pulled off his clothes, one item at a time.  Spending an extra few seconds at the scar on his cheek.  He’d touched Keith reverently, and he’d kissed him deep and slow. Licking the cookie dough off his neck, grinning into his skin as he did so.

Keith had pulled them under the water, and for a while they just held each other, touching new, unexplored skin.  Kissing under a warm stream of water.

Keith had run his hands over every inch of Lance’s body, breathing in the traces of Earth. The citrus. The sea.  He’d kissed the spot beneath Lance’s ear again, and Lance had moaned his name, pushing Keith up against the cool tile and taking him in his hand.

Keith had returned the favor on his knees, memorizing the sounds Lance had made.  Entranced by how much power he had over the other boy.

They’d snuck their way back to Keith’s room and fallen onto the bed with laughter, switching positions every few minutes to draw the moans out of the other one, to give them everything.  Lance had been competitive at times, but selfless and passionate too. 

He’d been predictably unpredictable.

Lance looked down at him now, watching him fondly.  “You know…you were my first…guy…”

Keith couldn’t help but grin at the awkward blush on Lance’s face.  “Yeah, that was kind of obvious when you started freaking out and told me to take over.”

Lance sighed, hiding his face in the crook of Keith’s neck again.   

It was kind of adorable.  

“I did okay, though?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “What, do you need a gold star or something? Yes. It was fucking great.”

Lance laughed, burrowing into him, warm and soft, and fuck, Keith never wanted to get up again in his life. He wanted to live and die here, with Lance wrapped around him.

But then his stomach growled, and Lance lifted his head, quirking a thin brow at him.  “Whoa. Was that you or _Blue_?”

Keith rolled his eyes and shoved Lance off of him, laughing quietly at the shriek Lance released upon being thrown off the bed.

 

* * *

 

 

Pidge narrowed her eyes at Keith as he cut into his pancakes.

He raised his brows.  “…What?”

She didn’t answer.  She just glared at him.  Then she dragged her eyes back to Lance. 

“You boys seriously have a one track mind, don’t you?” she griped.  “I said _talk_ to him, Lance. Not _fuck_ him.”

Lance fumbled with his glass, knocking over his juice, flooding the entire table. He yelped and immediately started throwing napkins onto the mess, mopping up the river flood. 

Keith smacked his palm to his face, and Pidge gaped, smiling.  “Oh my _god_.  I knew it.  You two finally smashed. Didn’t you?”

“Pidge!” Lance screeched.

“It’s _true_ , isn’t it?”

Lance looked to Keith for permission, and Keith shrugged.   _Cat’s already out._

“Well… _yeah_ ,” Lance said, a small smile tugging on his lips. “But you don’t have to say it like _that.”_

Pidge rolled her eyes just as Shiro and Hunk walked into the room.   “Hey guys, big news!  Lance made sweet, tender love to Keith last—“

Lance kicked Pidge’s chair out from under her, and she went crashing to the ground. Cursing.

“ _Lance_ ,” Shiro reprimanded harshly, but Pidge was laughing her ass off.  She even snorted, and Keith couldn’t help grinning a little.   

“What were you saying, Pidge?” Hunk asked, looking between her and Lance curiously.

Pidge stared up at Lance expectantly, her glasses half-off.  A ‘y _ou tell them or I will’_ kind of look.

Lance sighed. 

“Keith and I…are sort of…” He brought his hands together to illustrate his point. 

“Smashing?” Hunk guessed, and Lance gaped at him.  Pidge cackled from the floor, and Shiro bent to help her up, Dad-Mode activated.

“ _No_! Well. _Yes_ , but—“

“Wait. _Seriously_?!” Hunk cried, placing his hands on his cheeks, looking between Lance and Keith. “Oh my god. Pidge. Oh wow. It’s happening.”

“I know!” Pidge was back on her feet, grinning smugly.  “Allura owes me 50 GAC.”

Lance stared at them incredulously, his mouth moving without words. 

“Whoa, whoa, _whoa_.  You _bet_ on us?” he gasped, outraged.  He threw his hands in the air.   “Shiro, how could you let them do that?”

“Are you kidding?” Pidge cried. “Shiro is the founding father.  Right when the team first got together, you two were off arguing, and Shiro turns to us and says, ‘ _How long do you think it will take until they resolve their sexual tension_?”

Keith glanced at Shiro, and the older man shrugged.  “It was just for fun. I didn’t think everyone would take it so seriously.”

“The stakes got a lot higher when Lance left. Coran and Hunk pulled out, but I put more money _in_.” Pidge held up a finger matter-of-factly. “Nothing makes the heart grow fonder than misunderstandings and physical separation.”

That…was true.

“This is unbelievable,” Lance said. “Keith was literally _heartbroken_ and you guys were betting on his love life?!  Not cool.” Pidge rolled her eyes at this. “And we’re not just _fucking_ , for the record.  We’re like…together now.  Okay?  Just so we’re clear.”

There were grins throughout the room at that.  A nod of approval from Shiro.

“Congrats on the sex,” Pidge told Keith as she reached for the butter. “My condolences on the boyfriend part.”

Keith held in his laugh.  Barely.

“Pidge. Why are you like this,” Lance demanded.

“You just make it so easy.”

“I will _throw_ you.”

“Not with _those_ noodle-arms.”

“ _What_??!”

Shiro met Keith’s gaze from across the room, and he smiled.  A proud kind of smile.   Keith grinned back, embarrassed.

“ _Keith_ , tell Pidge my arms aren’t noodly.”

Keith was saved from having to lie through his teeth when Allura and Coran strolled into the room, taking in the joy on everyone’s faces—the anger on Lance’s. “Oh my. What did we miss?”

Lance opened his mouth, but Pidge beat him to it. 

“Well…Lance and Keith are boning but also in love and shit, Lance has ramen arms, and also, most importantly, you owe me money!"  

“ _PIDGE_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. 
> 
> The last two sections were completely self-indulgent and unnecessary, but that's what fanfiction is for, so I don't feel too bad.
> 
> Next time: Adam, and a battle i don't know how to write
> 
>  
> 
> [ART ](http://gtgrandom.tumblr.com/post/179876847619/soif-we-do-this-im-in-it-for-the-long-haul)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man did I struggle to finish this. I had the bones written for weeks, but ya’ll know I hate writing action scenes – plus I’ve been so, so busy that any extra time I have to write I’m just sleeping. 
> 
> Then when I finally sat down to write this BEAST, I just kept piling on more and more moments because I just LOVE THEM SO MUCH. I have no self-control, and I honestly have no idea how this happened to me. Klance has risen to one of my top 3? OTPs in a matter of months, and they aren’t even canon. RIP.
> 
> We’ve already seen like a million episodes of battle scenes, so forgive me if I kind of…brush over those parts. I’m still sick of them from season 7.
> 
> Anyway. Here is a bunch of incoherent words thrown together. If you’ve made it this far in this story, then I applaud you and thank you for your sacrifice XD. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> .

Slowly, the Coalition began arriving. 

The Blade.  Matt and his group of misfit fighter pilots. Commander Bogh’s forces and a few other Galran allies.  Old friends.  Old faces.

Keith offered Lance a nervous smile and left to greet Kolivan, who beamed at the boy and grabbed hold of Keith’s forearm tightly, patting him on the shoulder, praising him.  It might have just been a trick of the light, but Lance swore he saw a bit of moisture in the Galran’s eyes. 

Pidge and her brother had one of their heartfelt reunions and then instantly went back to teasing one another and talking about stuff way over Lance’s head.  It reminded him a bit of when his dad and Marco would start blabbering about some technical issue at the garage, and no one in the family could understand their jargon.  Kind of annoying—kind of adorable.

As the hours passed, more and more ships docked on Mars, and Lance was so happy to see all of the companions he’d never thought he’d lay eyes on again.  They all commended Lance on finding Keith, on returning to the team.  They _remembered_ him.  And that felt…really good.

Just after the sun dipped beyond the rocky horizon, a final ship touched down, and Lance stared as Romelle and several other Alteans descended, dressed in armor and fighting apparel.

She’d seen him and brightened, introducing him as the Red Paladin before promptly yanking him into a hug, eliciting awed stares from her comrades. 

This.  He’d missed _this_. 

Once everyone had convened, Shiro contacted Holt and informed him that the company was assembled, and they would be touching down at the Garrison shortly.   

It was to be the first intergalactic summit on Earth.  The news anchors were there.  Everyone in the world was tuned into their TV sets, waiting for the descent of an alien organization. 

Today would mark a paradigm shift for the world. For the universe.   

The two halves of Lance’s life would collide, and the world would finally know what he and his friends had done. 

It was a bold move, but a necessary one.  Especially in order to prepare and equip each nation’s space force for Lotor’s attack within a short number of days. 

For now, only the world leaders had been informed of the imminent attack, lest mass hysteria ensue.   The last thing they needed was swarms of people flooding the supermarkets, storing up on canned goods to prepare for the apocalypse. 

For now, the world believed this was a first meeting—a peace treaty and nothing more.   But behind closed doors, there was still much work to do to prepare Earth for Lotor and the Drajion missile.

Part of Lance hoped Lotor would realize his mad quest for revenge wasn’t worth fighting the best army the universe had to offer, but he knew the prince was too far gone to think rationally.  Keith had said he was jittery and unhinged, high on quintessence, struggling to contain the energy within him.  

Whoever showed up to destroy their world would not be Lotor—the Lotor they knew was dead. 

 

* * *

 

The Castle flew through the wormhole last, weaving through the sea of ships awaiting command. 

Lance took an extra minute to appreciate his home planet. 

He hadn’t been gone as long this time. But…if they lost this battle, this could be the last time he saw Earth like this.  Blue and clear and thriving.  Pristine.  _Intact_.  This could be the last _Earthrise_.

Lance felt Keith’s hand slip into his, and he glanced at the boy beside him.  

Keith watched the planet with a soft look on his face.  “Remember when you asked me what I missed most about Earth?”

Lance huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. And you couldn’t think of anything.  Except peanut butter.”

Keith nodded, smiling a little.  Still looking out at the sphere of blue.  “That changed.”

“Yeah?  What did you miss this time?”

“You,” Keith admitted easily, sliding his gaze to Lance and the heat that claimed his cheeks.  “And your family.  And the sound of the ocean at night. And for some reason…vending machines.”

Lance chuckled, squeezing his hand.  His _boyfriend’s_ hand.

Holy shit.  He had a _boyfriend_.

He had a… _Keith_.

“When this is over, I’ll take you to all the vending machines your emo heart desires.”

Keith snorted, trying to wrench his hand away, but Lance held tight to it, raising it to his lips and kissing his knuckles. 

“Ready when you are, Shiro,” Holt said through the comms. 

Shiro glanced at Allura, who shot him a small, reserved smile.  She nodded. 

“Copy that.”

The ship began its descent.

 

* * *

 

This time upon arrival, the Garrison was not just flooded with cadets and officers, but with the public.  A wave of onlookers held back by security gates and trucks.  Oohing and awing.

Lance wasted no time in flashing his finger guns at the camera crews, waving his hands and striking poses, and Keith just rolled his eyes, unsurprised. 

Honestly?  He’d expected this the first time they touched ground a year ago.  But if he had to pick, he’d rather see Lance soaking up the attention over sulking and brooding as he once had in the past.  He deserved the praise anyway.

The crowd gasped as each ship touched down and new, strange aliens emerged. Whispering.  Holding their phones to capture the groundbreaking event. 

Shiro greeted Iverson the way two men on equal footing greet one another, and Keith decided that as the new leader of Voltron he should _probably_ do the same.  

He walked up to the man he once despised and held out his hand, biting his tongue.  Iverson watched him, amused—almost like he could hear the string of curses Keith was holding in.  “You’ve come a long way, cadet.” He smiled knowingly, shaking his hand firmly.  “Or should I say, _Captain_?”

Keith’s lips tilted upward. 

The Coalition began filtering into the Garrison headquarters, taking in their surroundings curiously.  Smirking at the wide-eyed cadets.   Keith watched several of his fellow blades grow a few feet taller just to intimidate the men around them.  God, he wished he’d inherited that gene.  He hated being shorter than everyone except _Pidge_.   

The team moved toward the open doors when Shiro suddenly halted.   

Keith glanced back at him curiously, stopping when he saw the terror on the man’s face.  Keith followed Shiro’s gaze and stared.

A man stood in the middle of the doorway, chin raised defiantly.  Garrison attire.  Hair wind-swept.  Arms crossed over his chest.

Glasses low on his nose.

“Adam…” Shiro whispered.

Keith hadn’t seen his superior in years.  Adam looked older than he remembered.  A little more…intense.

Lance locked eyes with Keith, mouthing an incredulous, _holy shit._

The rest of the team had entered the building unaware of the situation, leaving just Shiro, Adam, Lance and Keith outside, holding their breaths.

“Say something, Shiro,” Keith urged. 

“Yeah. You got this, man,” Lance encouraged.  “Look at how things turned out with me and Keith.  Just talk to him.”

But Shiro was rooted in place.  Jaw locked.  Mouth unmoving.

It was strange to see him so… _afraid_.

After several heartbeats of tense silence, Keith thought Adam was going to give up and turn away, but then the man was marching forward, scowling.  “Nine.  Fucking.  Years. _Takashi_.”  He stopped in front of Shiro, the face of stone breaking into one of _rage_.  “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Shiro swallowed, releasing a breathless, “…Hi…”

Keith winced.

 “ _Hi_?  Are you _serious_?!” Adam cried.  He shook his head. “Do you realize what you’ve put me through, Shiro?”

Shiro opened his mouth, but Adam cut him off.

“We were engaged, and then you left.  And then you _died_.  And then you came back to life, but you were gone for five years.  Where—apparently, you died for real, until some mysterious alien princess brought you back to life.  And then you returned to Earth, but instead of popping in to let me know you were okay, to see how I was coping, what did you do?  Oh, you fucking _left_ again!  For three more years!  And what did _I_ do?” Adam threw his arms in the air. “I should have fucking _murdered_ you.”

Lance hid behind his hands like he was watching a scene from a horror movie.

Keith could sympathize.  He’d never seen Adam lose it before.  He’d always been calm and patient like Shiro.   Sarcastic, but never explosive, never undone.

 “I should have moved on.  I should have let you go,” Adam said, closing his eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath. “But I couldn’t.  I couldn’t let go knowing you were still out there.   So here I am!”

Shiro stared, his eyes upturning, and Keith wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone look more in love.  

“Here you are….”

“And now you’re back,” Adam finished, jabbing a finger in Shiro’s chest. 

Slowly, Shiro took Adam’s pointer finger in his hand, holding it flat against his chest, lips pulling into a small, gentle smile.   “And now I’m back.”

Adam glared up at him, nostrils flaring.  “…For how long?”

“As long as you want me around.”

Adam’s features shifted uncertainly.  A bit of the fire waned, and he leaned back slightly. “You’re…staying?”

Shiro stepped closer, his smile growing as he regained a bit of confidence.  “If I say yes…will you marry me?”

Lance choked on his own spit.   “ _Dude_.”

Keith bit his lip to keep the laugh in.  It sounded ridiculous of course.  Shiro proposing again after so many years, right after Adam had expressed his desire to _kill_ him. 

Then again, they’d been here before.  In a lot of ways, they’d just be picking up where they left off.

Shiro was obviously done running in circles.  He knew what he wanted, and he was going to fight for it now.  He was going to lay his emotions on the line.

Keith was proud of him for that. 

Adam stared at Shiro, stupefied.  A million emotions swimming in his eyes.  Then he drew his hand away from Shiro’s chest, scowling.  “That better not be a legitimate proposal. Because it’s shit.”

But his face had softened considerably, and Shiro grinned, like this was a good sign. 

“How about dinner then?” the paladin asked simply. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Adam scanned him critically, a bit uncertain, a bit unbalanced.  Then something changed in his eyes.  They grew warmer.  Softer.  It looked like he was holding back a fond chuckle—a sigh of amused exasperation. 

He scoffed and turned on his heels.  “Our spot.  Seven o’clock.  Don’t be late.”

They watched him leave.

Lance glanced at Shiro and the relieved expression on his face.  “That…was one way of going about it.”

Shiro beamed.  “It went better than I thought it would.”

“Yeah.  I was kind of scared for your life there for a second.”

“Me too.”

Lance chuckled.  “Well. I’m proud of you, man.  That took a lot of guts.”

Shiro raised a brow.  “It’s not like I had much of a choice.”

They broke into smiles, sharing a look that Keith didn’t quite understand, as if they shared some kind of inside joke. 

Whatever.  Keith was just happy to see a genuine smile back on his brother’s face. 

Shiro strode inside after his fiancé, and Lance slung an arm over Keith’s shoulders.  “You ready, Team Leader?”

Keith stared at the metal doors he once thought so big, so intimidating, and he grinned.

“Ready.”

 

* * *

 

And so began the Summit. 

They assembled in the Garrison Chamber for the hearing—a large, circular room equipped with hundreds of seats and desks and microphones.  

For a couple hours the leaders of each organization or race gave speeches and proposed future plans for intergalactic peace and cooperative initiatives.   Holt launched the hearing with a warm welcome speech and a brief recap of historic events that led them here before introducing the foreign leaders.

 Ryner spoke of Olkarian technology that could help enhance intergalactic travel and communication.  The Blade explained the grave mistakes of the Galra empire and the greed that led them there, Kolivan shooting pointed looks at several Garrison members.   Allura revisited the story of Altea and her father’s vision.  Shiro spoke of Voltron’s many feats.  He also strictly outlined the team’s values and priorities—AKA, not becoming a tool for the aspirations of man.  

It was all for publicity really.  To keep the world distracted for a few weeks.

Once the camera crews were escorted away, and the doors were closed to visitors, the real business began.

And…Lance’s attention began to dwindle. 

It wasn’t his fault!  Things started getting real technical with the battle plans and the technology.  The Garrison kept asking stupid ass questions, and nothing had changed regarding Lotor—scouts had found nothing. 

The thing was, Lance wasn’t going to be able to contribute anything here other than bolstering his teammates’ arguments or confirming certain facts pertaining to Lotor’s base in the Eridanus cluster.  He already knew the plans concerning Voltron, and even those could change in the heat of battle.   He was not imperative to the discussion here, and that was okay. 

So as he examined the faces of his company, he allowed his thoughts to wander.  He thought about the very real possibility of dying, of watching a missile drop to Earth and standing beside Keith as the sky fell around them.  He thought about victory, and what it would mean, where they’d go from here. 

He thought about all these people in one place, giving everything to this cause, to this fight, and decided that their sacrifice should not go on unheeded. 

 

* * *

 

Keith was exhausted after the meeting.

He’d quickly slipped away to Black and napped for about two hours.

That is until Lance woke him up with his chuckling.

Keith pried an eye open.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Lance said, leaning against the wall.  He was in casual clothes.  And…he was wearing Keith’s old red jacket, tailored to perfection. 

It was distracting, the way the long sleeves were bunched up around Lance’s elbows, the way the jacket hung open to reveal a simple white t-shirt, the new black strips of material hanging low around Lance’s waist. 

Realizing that he was just staring, thirsting after his boyfriend, Keith glanced away, wiping his face and any drool that might have been there.  “I was just…”

Lance quirked a brow. “Napping?  Or _hiding_?”

“Both.”

Lance snickered, moving forward and crawling onto the small cot, pushing Keith onto his back and hovering above him.

Keith stared up at him, eyes drawn to the jacket again.  He lifted his hand to the edge of the jacket, running the material between the pads of his fingers.  “Your mom did a really good job with this.”

Lance pouted. “Oh no.  Don’t tell me you want it back now.”

“No. It looks good on you.”

Lance’s lips quirked upward.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  Keith’s hands smoothed over the material, across the planes of Lance’s chest, rising up to his collar and pulling him down.

Lance obliged, kissing him softly, deeply, sighing into his mouth happily.  His eyes flicked over Keith’s face tenderly as he pulled away, and Keith wondered if kissing Lance would always be like this—electrifying, breathtaking, heart stopping.  

“Okay.  I could stay here kissing you for hours, but your presence is requested in the Great Hall,” Lance said.

“What’s going on in the Great Hall?”

Lance grinned. 

 

* * *

 

Keith could hear the commotion inside the room, and he slid his nervous gaze to Lance. 

“What did you do?”

Lance wiggled his thin brows mysteriously, pushing the doors open to reveal a conference room flooded with people and aliens and food and alcohol.  Speakers blared horrible music that Keith just _knew_ was from Lance’s playlist—mostly because he’d listened to it over and over and over these last six months.

“What, Kogane, don’t recognize a party when you see one?”

Keith was stunned.  There were streamers across the ceiling and colorful lights and Jesus—that appetizer spread looked amazing.  Hunk had definitely played a role in that masterpiece, Keith was sure.

“Did you organize all this?” Keith asked quietly as Lance pulled him into the crowd. 

“Yup.”

_“When?”_

“During the meeting, obviously.”

Keith rolled his eyes.  “I _thought_ you were being uncharacteristically pensive.  But you were just scheming. Figures.”

Lance laughed, clear and bright and _wow_ …Keith was so over-the-top in love with him.   How had he ever been unsure of that?  How had he ever doubted himself? 

Lance had stolen his cold and shriveled heart years ago, and he’d had it ever since—keeping it warm next to his own, letting it thaw.

And Keith was fine with keeping it that way.

As they weaved through the guests, Lance would stop and pat certain people on the back, and they’d turn and exchange a few excited words—glancing down at Keith’s hand in Lance’s, _smiling._  

Keith wasn’t sure that he liked all the knowing looks he was receiving, like they’d predicted this outcome or something.  But Lance was happy about it, so whatever.

They mingled for a while, catching up with friends, swapping stories.  Lance was having a good time—Keith could see the brightness fill his eyes, flashes of ocean blue returning in waves.  Lance hadn’t gotten a chance to celebrate before, after they’d defeated the Galra.  He’d missed out on the feasts and the parties and the toasts, which was kind of heartbreaking, because he fucking _loved_ this kind of thing.

But he was making up for it now, soaking it in, and as he launched into his own animated tales, making wild hand gestures and ridiculous facial expressions, Keith found himself falling even deeper in love. 

He wasn’t sure how that was possible.  To keep falling after you’d already fallen. 

Then again, he supposed in outer space you could fall _forever._  

  

* * *

 

The night went on. 

Every time someone asked about Keith’s rescue, Keith would respond with a brief summary of events, and then Lance would sweep in and seamlessly switch topics.  He was a natural at navigating conversations, a pro at whisking away that awkwardness, and Keith had never been more grateful for that ability than he was now. 

Until—

“Alright, Keith. Impromptu speech.”

Keith looked down at the microphone Lance had pressed into his chest, fingers curling around it hesitantly.  “What.”

Lance raised his brows, “You’re the leader of Voltron.  You have to say _something_.”

“Why.”

“Because.”

Keith frowned.  “Lance…”

“Keith, you’re good at this.  At rallying people.  Making them _angry_.  That’s what we need for the next few days.  We need them all to adopt your work ethic, your drive, your passion.  So do what you do best, and _lead_.”

Keith blinked at him.  _What he did best??_   “I…you’re better with words than I am.  You do it.”

“I’m better than you at _lots_ of things, Keith,” Lance replied, eyes twinkling. “But this is where you belong.  Up there, speaking to a room full of people who admire you.”

Keith stared at him for a moment.  Then he shook his head, lifting his hand.  “That. Right there.  I don’t get it.”

“What?”

“Lance, _you’re_ the inspirational one, not me.  You give the pep talks. You come up with the plans. You keep the team together. _You_ should lead Voltron.”

Lance blinked at him, opening his mouth. Closing it. Opening it again. “…I thought you’d accepted your position as leader now?”

Keith glanced away.  “I _accepted_ it. It doesn’t mean I think I _deserved_ it.”

Lance sighed, stepping closer and cupping the side of Keith’s face, forcing him to look at him.  “You were meant to lead this team.  You might not see it, but I do.  Looking back, I don’t know how I ever doubted you.”

Keith swallowed.  “But—“

“I hesitate,” Lance said.  “I might have some good ideas sometimes, but I hesitate.  You don’t, Keith.  You make split-second decisions. You follow your gut.  _That’s_ what a leader has to be able to do in the thick of battle, when everyone is throwing different ideas at him.  A leader has to be able to take initiative.”

Keith frowned. He could remember several times when his _initiative_ nearly got everyone killed.

Lance brought his other hand to Keith’s face and began tracing his thumbs over his cheekbones, trying to soothe him.  “It was obvious from the night we first rescued Shiro that you were meant to lead us.  Pidge and I were trying to come up with a way to save your brother, and just as I proposed the idea of creating a distraction, you’d set off your own diversion, already two steps ahead of us.”

Keith smiled a little at that.

“Then we all piled onto your stupid craft, and you started yelling orders at Hunk to help us maneuver at over-capacity, and you got us out _alive_.”  Lance smiled at him softly. “You’ve had it in you all along, Keith.  Now go show them why you deserve the title of Black Paladin.”

Keith groaned, but he did as he was told, breaking away from Lance’s warm hands. 

Lance had total confidence in him, and for some reason, that was enough.

 

* * *

  

Keith wasn’t the best at “winging it” when it came to public speaking.  But he owed it to his team to be a worthy leader. For as long as Voltron lasted.

The crowd quieted as Keith took the stage.  He took a deep breath.

“I…first, I want to thank you all for coming to our aid.  You’re putting your lives at risk to help people who didn’t even know of your existence.  You don’t know how much that means to Voltron, and to those of us with families here,” Keith said, eyes flicking in Lance’s direction.  Lance smiled so warmly, Keith almost forgot what he was doing.  He cleared his throat, looking out over the sea of faces.  “We’ve done a lot of incredible things in the last few years. We’ve saved galaxies from dictatorship and forced labor. We’ve helped bring peace to thousands of planets.  We’ve overcome the impossible.  Together.”

There was applause at that, a few whoops from Matt and Pidge.  They’d both had too much to drink, and they leaned against one another for support, snickering.

“But there’s still one threat out there.  A threat that has left personal scars on my team.  A threat that left untended, could undo all our progress.”  Keith swallowed, thinking of Lotor. Of seeing his face again.  Hearing his voice. His eyes darted back to Lance, his safe haven, and that warmth eased his breath.  Calmed his heart.    “Until Lotor and his generals are defeated…until Haggar and her druids are destroyed…this war isn’t over.  Until that day, we will _never_ see peace.”

He met the grave faces of his friends, his army.

“But that day is coming,” he voiced. “Any day now, Lotor will strike.  And we _will_ defeat him.  We _will_ win.  And we will finally be able to say with confidence that we’ve brought an end to a reign of terror.”

Lance nodded, making his jazz-hands gesture, and Keith loosed a fond breath.  

He raised his cup.   “So when Lotor shows his face again, let’s show that bastard exactly what we’re made of!”

The room erupted in cheers, glasses clinking, Galrans shouting, Alteans hooting.   

“Down with the purple prince!” Matt bellowed, and Pidge doubled over in laughter.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Lance had lost his boyfriend. 

 _I left him right here_ , he thought, spinning around, searching for that head of dark hair.  How had he misplaced a grown man in his twenties? 

“Lance.”

He turned, blinking at Krolia and her deep yellow eyes. 

“Oh. Hey.”

_Act cool, act cool._

_She’s just your boyfriend’s super-assassin mom.  Who is twice as lethal as Keith—and that’s saying something._

She offered him an amused, closed-lip smile, as if she could read his thoughts, and then she pulled him to the side of the room. 

Lance briefly entertained the idea that she was going to kill him.  Like...maybe he shouldn’t have announced to everyone on the team that he was fucking her son.  He hadn’t really thought that one through.

Instead of killing him though, she just leaned back against the wall and stared at him thoughtfully, fondly.   “I haven’t had a chance to properly thank you, Lance.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “Uh…for what?”

“For finding my son.  For bringing him back to me.” She tilted her head. “For mending his heart.”

 _Oh_.

Lance didn’t know what to say. 

“You remind me a lot of Keith’s father,” she said, grinning.  “Charming. Emotional.  Passionate.  He was patient with me when I raised my walls. But he also knew how to break them down.”  She touched his arm softly. “You’re good for him, Lance. I’ve always thought so.”

“You have?” He found that hard to believe.

She nodded.  “In the abyss, we both saw many glimpses of the future.  I saw you with Keith.  The two of you together.  And before I’d ever met you, I knew no one else could make my son that happy.  In those snapshots of the future, he was the boy I’d always hoped he would become.  He’d broken out of his shell.  Thanks to you.”

Lance stared at her, and she patted his arm before walking away, leaving him there, reeling.

Future?  …The abyss….

 _…What_?

 

* * *

 

 

Lance was on a mission to find Keith and find out why he’d never told him they were destined to be together. 

Had he seen these future memories too?  Had he known they were endgame?  What else did he _see_?

He marched up to his team, hands on his hips.  “Has anyone seen my emo boyfriend?”

They curled their lips and shook their heads.  Allura handed Drunk Pidge a cup full of water, a stern eyebrow raised, and Pidge sighed at the contents, pouting. 

“You know how he is,” Hunk said, stacking more appetizers onto his plate. “Parties aren’t really his thing.”

“Yeah. Honestly I’m surprised he stayed as long as he did,” Pidge said.  “Probably for you, Lover Boy.”

Lance frowned. 

“It really is a wonderful party, though,” Allura assured him.  “I think after the stress over the last few days we really needed this.  Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.”

She gestured to Coran, who was drunkenly exhibiting his “sleepy time” karate moves to a group of bemused blades.

Lance scanned the crowd, eyes latching onto the exit sign—the door to the staircase.

He rolled his eyes.

_Typical Keith._

 

* * *

 

Lance found him on the roof, sitting cross-legged, staring up at the stars. 

He gestured for the team to hold back for a moment while he checked his boyfriend’s mood.  

“Keith? You okay, bud?”

Keith glanced at him in surprise. “Yeah.  Sorry I vanished. It just got a little too…loud.”

Lance stepped closer, gauging Keith’s reaction.  But he didn’t seem jumpy.  He appeared to welcome Lance’s company. 

“I…I’m not really used to that much…stimulation again,” Keith admitted, rubbing at his wrist.  “I think being in a cell alone for so long sort of...made me more sensitive to large crowds and stuff.”

Lance’s heart sank at the confession.   Keith was sharing something about his experience in Lotor’s captivity. That was a first.  

“No, I totally get it,” he said, sinking down beside him.  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Keith shrugged.  “I know. But I want to.  I think it’s good…to talk about it.”

Lance forced back tears. _Dry, dry for the love of God_ , he willed his eyes. “Well…any time you want to talk about it—any of it—I’ll listen.  When you’re ready.”

Keith smirked, and he leaned his head on Lance’s shoulder. 

Lance bit his lip, muffling a scream.  It was sort of like when an animal lays down on you, and you hold your breath because fuck, you don’t want this to ever stop.  An ethereal creature has chosen you.  Has trusted you. 

—In this case, the ethereal creature being the aloof Keith Kogane.

But as much as Lance wanted to soak up this quiet moment with Keith, he also knew his boyfriend needed his support system.  All of them.

So Lance motioned for his friends to approach.

They did so slowly, as if Keith were a deer they were about to startle away.   One by one they sat down beside them, sprawling out on the roof, and Keith lifted his head, glancing around at them curiously.  “What’s…everyone doing out here?”

Pidge smirked, staring up at the sky.  “You know.  Reflecting. Reminiscing.  _Bonding_.”

Hunk snorted, looking around at the solar panels, the concrete. “Wow. Remember the last time we were _up_ here?”

“Of course,” Lance said.  “It was the night our lives changed.”

Allura frowned at them, pulling her knees up to her chest. “What do you mean?”            

Lance grinned.  “Well…I convinced Hunk to sneak out with me—“

“Of course that’s how it starts,” Keith muttered, and Lance bumped his shoulder playfully.

“But we spotted Pidge sneaking out first, and we followed her up here.  ‘Course, we thought she was a _dude_ back then…”

Pidge flushed under Allura’s inquisitive gaze. “I was trying to figure out what had happened to Matt and my Dad—“

“She had all this bizarre tech out here, scanning for radio signals like one of those crazy conspiracy theorists!” Lance cried.

“Don’t exaggerate, noodle man.”

“To be fair, Keith also looked like a crazy conspiracy theorist with all his maps and drawings in his desert shack,” Hunk said.  "That's like something you'd see on  _Dateline_."

Keith snickered.

“Then what happened, exactly?” Allura asked.

“Well, then Shiro came crashing back to Earth, and Keith appeared out of nowhere and set off these explosions as a distraction so he could rescue him.  And then Lance saw Keith, and decided he wasn’t going to let him have all the glory, so he ran after him, and we followed _him_ to make sure he didn’t _die_ ,” Pidge explained, slurring her words a bit.  

Keith glanced at Lance.  “How’d you know it was me? I was in disguise and everything.”

“Your mullet, obviously. And your ass.  Both hard to forget.” 

He earned an eye-roll for that.

“After that night, everything really _did_ change,” Hunk agreed. “Keith brought us to the cave with the Blue Lion…and the rest is history.”

“What a story,” Allura sighed. 

“I’ll say.” Lance wrapped his arm around Keith.  “Look how far we’ve come!  A bunch of strangers, and now we’re here…”

“Now we’re _family_ ,” Hunk affirmed. 

Lance heard Keith’s breath hitch next to him, and he tightened his grip around him. 

“Yeah.  A loud, strange, mostly dysfunctional alien family with a space dad _and_ uncle,” Pidge murmured.

“And a space dog!” Lance recalled. “Where the heck is Blue anyw—“

The wolf instantly appeared before them, almost like he’d been waiting for an introduction, and Lance nearly jumped out of his skin. 

He was never going to get used to that. 

“There he is.  It wouldn’t be complete without Blue, would it?” Allura exclaimed, stroking the mane of the giant wolf.  Blue went boneless, falling into her lap.  She chuckled.

“Family, huh?” Keith said softly, staring up at the stars. 

“That’s right,” Lance said.  “And you know what that means.”

Keith looked at him expectantly.

“It means you’re stuck with us.  No matter what.”

“Like dog shit,” Pidge added seriously, and Lance barked out a laugh.

 

* * *

  

The next morning the Coalition split up into different task forces—defense operations, fighter pilot debriefing, and evacuation planning...in case they failed.

Lance and Keith went to piloting prep with the other cadets and sat down around a large table.  Shiro stood at the head, reviewing several battle scenarios, Adam drawing them out on the board. 

Shiro was smiling, standing tall in his Garrison officer uniform.  His eyes flicked back to Adam, and they shared a look—holding a private conversation with their eyes.

Lance gaped.  “Holy shit.  Shiro got _laid_.”

Keith, sitting beside him, shuddered. “Lance. That’s like…my brother’s sex life you’re talking about.”

Although, by the looks of it, he was totally right. 

Lance turned to him, an evil smile forming on his lips.  “Speaking of sex life, exactly how many guys have you slept with now?”

Keith blinked at him, face warming. “So, Shiro’s sex life…”

Lance sighed dramatically, slumping in his chair.  “I can’t believe you’re more experienced than me!”

“They were just random hookups. I’m not the one who started _dating_ someone else.” 

Keith winced as soon as it left his lips.  He sounded way too bitter.

Lance frowned, curling into himself slightly.  “I didn’t know you knew about that.”

“I…might have finally watched the messages.”

Lance sank further, groaning.  His noises earned them pointed looks from the other cadets.  “I guess…I guess it was just my attempt to move on.  But I kept talking about you and the team and space, and she broke up with me.  Said my head was always somewhere else.  And so was my heart.”  He shrugged. “She was right.”

Keith immediately felt like an ass.  He wasn’t trying to make Lance guilty for trying to find happiness without him.  

“…How long were you two together?”

Lance started picking at the edge of the table, eyes lowered.  “A year. She broke up with me on our anniversary.  I planned a whole big thing, candles and everything.  Apparently she was already seeing someone else.”

Keith winced. He should just stop. He was making it worse.  “Sorry.”

Lance huffed, looking up from the table and grinning at him.  “Hey.  It led me here, didn’t it?  Back to you.”

Keith’s chest tightened, and he smiled.  “Yeah.  It did.”

 

* * *

 

 It was evening when the alarms sounded.

The siren wailed over the speakers, sending Keith’s heart rate through the roof. 

He’d _arrived_.  

Lotor, a warship, and a thousand Galran spacecraft. 

They'd passed the checkpoint.  They were closing in.

And just like that, things fell into motion.

Cadets ran off to their fighter jets.  Officers rushed off to the Command Center.   The Coalition started fueling up.  And Keith’s entire body tingled with nerves.

Before joining his fellow officers, Shiro found the team assembled by the lions, pulling on their gear.  He looked them over, a small, proud smile on his face.  “Alright, team. Today's the day. You’ve got this.”

“Hell yeah we do,” Lance said, adjusting his armor.   “You know how long I’ve been waiting for this?  It’s been _years_ since Red and I got to whoop some Galra ass together.”

Shiro grinned, shaking his head in amusement.  He turned to Keith. “You ready?”

Keith knew the words carried a bundle of smaller questions.  Was he ready for battle? Was he ready to face his tormentor again?  Was he ready to embrace his role as leader?

Keith lifted his chin, smirking.  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Shiro smiled, staring at him for a moment, taking him in.  Then he stepped forward and pulled Keith into a tight embrace.  “I’m proud of you, Keith.  For finally believing in yourself.”

Keith wrapped his arms around him.  “Thanks, Shiro.  For _everything_.”

For saving him from himself.  For never giving up on him. 

For becoming his family.

Shiro pulled back, his eyes pouring forth all his support, his faith.  “Be safe out there.”  He lifted his gaze to the whole team. “All of you.”

They smiled back at him, and they seemed to recognize that for the first time, team dynamics had truly changed.  Shiro had moved on.

Slowly, Lance lifted his hand in a salute, grinning softly.  _Thank you_ , it said.  _Officer, mentor, leader, friend._

_Thank you for all you’ve done._

The others lifted their hands in salutes as well, and Shiro blinked at them, eyes glistening as he loosed a fond breath. 

He raised his own hand to return the salute, grinning at them.    Then he bowed his head and walked away—walking toward the new chapter of his life.

Keith inhaled deeply, turning around to face his team. 

Hunk. Pidge.  Allura.  Lance.  Helmets in their arms, passion on their faces.  Sporting their new Altean armor. 

The sirens faded.

“Okay, team.  The world needs us now more than ever.” He fixed them with a serious look. “I know we’ve had our problems.  I know I haven’t been the best leader.  Or the best friend.  But…I know with you, I'm stronger.  _We're_ stronger.  We’re Voltron.  All of us.  _Only_ us.  And I believe in us.”

Lance smiled, looking up at the sky, the sunset painting his skin gold and orange.  “I feel it, don’t you? That connection?  That hum in the air?”

“You feel it too?” Hunk gasped. “I just thought it was my anxiety.”

Pidge snorted.  “No. It’s real.  I think it’s the lions.  It’s like they’re purring or something.  _Excited_.”

Keith nodded—Black was pulsing with an energy he’d never felt before.  It was an eager energy, a confident energy.  “I think we’re better than we’ve ever been.  _Closer_ than we’ve ever been.”  Falling apart had made each of their vulnerabilities glaringly obvious.  They’d seen each other at their lowest now.  They knew each other better than ever before.  “We’re going to take out that fleet.  We’re going to take out that missile.  And then…then we’re going to take out Lotor.”

“And then we’ll take a really, really long nap,” Lance finished, and they all snickered, the nervousness in their postures falling away.

They beamed at one another and parted with varying sentiments and comments, boarding each of their lions. 

Keith moved to do the same, but Lance grabbed his wrist.  “Hey, Mullet.  I’ve got a question for you.”

Keith raised his brows at the serious look on his boyfriend’s face. 

“Did you know?” Lance asked.  “When you saw those visions of the future, did you know we’d end up together?”

Keith blinked. How did he _know_ about that? 

“Krolia told me,” Lance explained, reading his mind.

Keith wet his lips.  “I…wasn’t sure.  I saw a few glimpses of us…becoming a lot closer than we’d been…and I wanted to believe they were true, but when everything fell apart…I figured they’d just shown me what I wanted, not our actual…destiny.”

Lance’s grip tightened on his arm.  “And now?”

“Now….I don’t know. I hope they’re true,” Keith said, and Lance’s eyes widened in delighted surprise.  “But it doesn’t matter anymore.  I’m just living in the present now. Like you told me to.  One day at a time.”

Lance smiled, a light pink color dusting his cheeks.  “I guess I don’t get any spoilers then?”

“Not a chance.”

“Mm.  How about a kiss then?”

Keith sighed, leaning up and pressing their lips together firmly.  Lance held him in place as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head to claim more of Keith’s mouth, pouring out his feelings, his concerns, his fears, his desperation.      

It felt too much like a goodbye.

Keith broke away, frowning a little. “Lance…”

Blue eyes upturned, and Lance ran his thumb across the inside of Keith’s wrist.  “Just in case.”

 

* * *

  

They flew up into the atmosphere, gravity pressing against them.

Keith closed his eyes, and he felt it almost instantly.

The link.

The wire.

The connection.

Stronger and brighter than ever before.

Keith could hear Lance’s distant cheer as Voltron converged. 

Legs. Torso. Arms.  Head.

Keith breathed out heavily, chuckling in relief.

They’d _done_ it.

They breached the atmosphere, returning to the solace of zero gravity, and Keith opened his eyes, startled to see three new control settings on his dash. 

“Uh, did we just get an upgrade?” Hunk asked. 

“I did!  I got a ton of new buttons,” Pidge exclaimed.

“Same!” Lance said.  “Oh, man. This one looks like it’s gonna be _fun_.”

“Lance, don’t push anything until we know what it does,” Allura warned. 

Lance mumbled something in Spanish, and Keith rolled his eyes.

They turned away from Earth’s curvature to the dark of space.  To the enemy and his army.

Keith narrowed his eyes. 

The stars and moon were blotted out by Lotor’s ship and a legion of fighter craft behind him.  _Waiting_. 

Their numbers were strong.  Lotor had obviously had contingency plans after Shiro obliterated half his fleet in the Eridanus Cluster.   This fight wouldn’t be an easy one.

Around Voltron, the Garrison and Coalition fighter forces began appearing, positioning themselves between Lotor and Earth.  Spacecraft from all over the world began to join the ranks. 

North America.  South America.  Japan.  China.  India.  Russia.  Europe. 

_United._

Keith turned his attention back to Lotor’s ship, his hands taught around the stick. 

 _You’ve got your audience, Lotor,_ he thought.  _You can make your grand entrance now._

He knew the prince too well—the bastard’s face popped up on his screen moments later.  Face twisted into a crazed expression.  Eyes wild.  Hair frayed. 

A smug, evil smile tearing at his cheeks.   

 “Paladins. It’s been too long, I must say.”  He was barely hanging on—a second from falling off that ledge, as Keith had witnessed many times in his prison cell.   Lotor was masking his insanity well tonight.  But it wouldn’t take long for that rubber band to snap. The Galran breathed out, grinning viciously.   “Good to see you again, Black Paladin.”

“Fuck off,” Lance seethed.  Keith could feel his anger rippling through the bond.

“Leave now, Lotor,” Allura said, void of emotion.  “Take your hatred with you and leave Earth alone. Or suffer the consequences.”

Lotor found this amusing, and he tilted his head, eyes glinting with a playfulness that brought bile to Keith’s throat.  “You think you and your pathetic human army can win, princess? One press of a button and I destroy this world _forever_.  And you lose everything. Just as I lost everything because of you.”

“We had nothing to do with your downfall,” Allura protested. “You became a monster all on your own.”

Lotor chuckled, and Keith could see a crack in the glass.  “ _Did_ I?  Because I remember you abandoning me in the quintessence field.  Condemning me to eternal suffering.”

“You were a monster long before that,” Allura said.

His team was trembling with anger, flooding with memories of betrayal and guilt and heartbreak.  

Keith breathed out his nose, calming himself.  “What are you waiting for, Lotor? Why didn’t you shoot the Drajion missile at your first opportunity?”

He almost _felt_ Hunk’s jolt of surprise. “Dude. Don’t give him _ideas_!”

Lotor smiled. “That would have been too easy, and not at all satisfying.  No, dear paladin.  First I will defeat you and your army.  Then I will conquer your planet and drain your people of their life source.” His voice was rising with every word. “And then I will destroy your dying planet and force you to watch as everything you’ve ever loved is _obliterated_.”

“Edgy,” Pidge murmured.

“Seriously morbid,” Hunk agreed, taunting the prince.

Lotor’s grin faltered just a little, and his brow twitched.   The paladins knew he hated not being taken seriously, and they were exploiting that insecurity. 

But Keith was still caught up on what the prince had revealed. Lotor didn’t intend to use the missile yet.  That bought them some time. 

“My threats are very real, paladins.  And you will find that I _always_ follow through on my promises.”

“Ugh, are you still _talking_?” Lance complained.  “Man, I thought _I_ had a big ego. Quit blabbering.  Let’s see if you can walk the walk.”

Lotor glared, lifting his chin.   “Very well.  Enjoy these moments together, paladins.  They will be your last.”

And with that, the army fell upon them.

 

* * *

 

“Pidge!”

“On it.”

Lance watched as Pidge launched a powerful laser blast right at Lotor’s ship.  As anticipated, it bounced off a force field.

Lance studied the rippling light and its boundaries.  It was strong, and it surrounded the ship entirely.

“The only chance of him dropping the shield is the moment he decides to use the missile,” Lance said. “That’s our only window, and it’s risky.”

“Does he just plan on sitting there in his ship, doing _nothing_?” Pidge scoffed.

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Keith said.  “For now, let’s worry about this army.”

Lance was fine with that.  He was just _dying_ to flay these droids. 

So they went to work, annihilating the jets in their vicinity.  

It felt good to fight again, joined with his team.  It was exhilarating, and Lance had never felt like he’d belonged anywhere as much as he did right here, between Earth and space, fighting for his loved ones.  

The few ships that made it past their defense shot for Earth, but they were unable to penetrate the atmosphere because Pidge was a fucking _genius_.   On her time on Olkari, she’d studied a bit of force field technology, and she’d developed a planetary defense mechanism much like the one they’d encountered at Commander Bogh’s shielding facility. 

With the help of Hunk and Matt and the Garrison, they were able to construct a viable organic shield for the entire planet. 

It wouldn’t last long against a concentrated assault, but it would buy them some more time.  And spare lives in the meantime.

Just when they’d started making a visible dent in the legion, they were thrust forward forcefully, the paladins grunting at the impact.

“What was that??” Hunk cried.

They spun around.

And there before them was Lotor’s own robot—Sincline—a sword in either hand.

 

* * *

 

“Lance!” Keith yelled.

Lance thrust his bayard in that new slot that had just been _begging_ to be used, and he felt a burst of energy in his veins.

He twisted the weapon, hearing the click—music to his ears.

Then he was immersed in bright, scorching light, and when he opened his eyes, he’d formed a sword—his _broadsword_. 

At the same time, Keith had formed his own double-edged blade, and Lance could practically _feel_ his smile.

Sincline surged forward, and the two robots clashed.

  

* * *

  

They’d fought Lotor’s invention before, but this time, they were stronger.  They were smarter.

They were _angry_.

They pushed him back toward his ship, and when they saw their chance, they took it—kicking Sincline right into the invisible barrier.  

The robot found itself trapped in the electric current, glitching, sparking, spewing blasts of quintessence. Flailing uselessly.

Lance watched, fixated, as the anti-Voltron _brought_ _down_ the shield.

They’d caused a blackout.

They'd just _cooked_ Lotor.

“Inside!” Keith ordered, and they grabbed hold of Sincline and shot through the broken force field.

Sincline was battery dead. 

Unmoving.

 _Fried_.

“ _No_!”

Lance looked back at his feed, staring at the image of Lotor’s very alive, very much _unharmed_ face. 

How the _fuck_ ….? 

“Open up the hatch!” Keith instructed.

They tore open the head of the giant robot, and they stared down at the unconscious (and smoldering) Galra in the cockpit.

 _"....Acxa?"_  

 

* * *

  

Keith ground his teeth.

Lotor had been wasting their time.  Keeping them preoccupied.

Instead of facing them himself, he'd sacrificed his own generals to take Voltron down—Acxa, Ethrid, and Ezor.  

 _Coward_.

“Seriously?” Pidge said. “Is that all you got, Lotor?”

Lotor panted into the video feed, unhinged.  “You…may have defeated my weapon, paladins, but now you’ve wandered right into the lion’s den…”

Keith’s gut dropped, and he jerked his head up. “ _No_.”

Around them, the force field reactivated, a sheen of blue electricity reconnecting.  Humming with energy.

Trapping them _inside_.

Shit.

Keith had thought they'd fried the whole system. 

He'd messed up.

“Now, you will watch your families _perish_.  And you will be helpless to stop it.”  Lotor found his smile again—but this time it was crooked and sharp, unnatural.  “Enjoy the show, paladins.”

His image disappeared.

Keith released Sincline and its pilots, scowling.  “Okay.  It’s not that bad.  We breached his defenses.”

“Yeah, and now we’re _trapped_ in here,” Hunk reminded him.

“We had to get in somehow,” Lance said.  “This is good. Now we just need a plan.”

“We _need_ to split up,” Keith decided, watching the pieces come together in his head.  It was a bold plan, but it was necessary.

“Wait, _what_?” Allura cried.  "Split up?"

“We need someone to get that missile,” Keith continued, eyeing the ship’s canon.  “Detach it and take it as far away as possible.  That means someone _else_ has to stand guard while they do it." He looked at the faces of his team members on his feed.  "Hunk, Pidge. You think you can disengage and dismantle?”

“We can try,” Hunk said.  “I mean, if we can’t decommission the thing in time, we can just launch Lotor and his whole ship into the sun, right?”

Keith wished it were that easy.

“If we want to get that thing out of range, we’ll need someone to take out the force field first,” Pidge pointed out.

“I know,” Keith said.  “That’s what I’ll be doing.”

“ _What_?” Lance croaked.

“I’m Galra.  I’m the only one who can get into that ship and shut off the shield.”

“Not _alone_ ,” Lance objected.

Keith huffed, smiling a little.  “I never said I was going in alone.  I want you and Allura with me.”

There was a beat of silence, and Keith watched the battle in the distance, Garrison pilots weaving through the Galra fleet.  Lasers bouncing off of Earth’s particle shield.

He wasn’t sure how much longer that protective layer could last.

“Oh….does that mean I’m allowed to kill Lotor?” Lance asked tentatively.

“Lance,” Allura chided.

“It’s a valid question!”

“If you have the shot, take it,” Keith replied, and his teammates went quiet—stunned.  “He’s not getting away from us this time.”

 

* * *

 

As they disengaged and blasted themselves aboard Lotor’s hangar, Lance couldn’t help thinking of Iverson’s words years ago.

_“I hope I don't need to remind you that the only reason you're here is that the best pilot in your class had a discipline issue and flunked out…”_

_“Don’t follow in his footsteps,”_ he’d said. 

Lance grinned at the irony.

He hadn’t just followed Keith into the unknown. 

No.  He’d taken his _place_ as the Red Paladin.  He’d gone looking for him on the far edges of the universe.

And now he was following him aboard the enemy’s ship like a loyal shadow. 

He’d follow Keith _anywhere._

* * *

 

They quickly took out the sentinels hoping to intercept them and pushed on to the interior of the ship, running down the corridor toward the helm, bayards at the ready. 

They cut another corner and slid to a stop.

“Ah, fuck,” Lance muttered.

At the end of the hallway stood Haggar and two of her creepy-ass druids.

“Paladins…” she rasped, her hood down, her Altean face….definitely less sinister-like than Lance last remembered.

Allura stepped forward, her bayard transforming into her whip.

“Honerva.”

The witch scowled.  “I haven’t heard that name in many deca-phoebs.”

Allura shook her head, her short hair swishing back and forth.  “I don’t understand.  As an Altean, how can you stand by Lotor after what he's done?”

Haggar’s face twisted into something sour.  Something vicious. “The pursuit of knowledge requires sacrifice, child.”

“It also requires restraint,” Allura said, trembling with anger.  One of her own—one whose own culture was lost to Galra—was now helping destroy another planet, another civilization.  She'd chosen her hateful son over her people, over everything she'd once held dear. 

“Capture them,” Haggar told the druids.  “But don’t kill them.  _Yet_.”

The cloaked creatures instantly shot blasts of dark energy toward them, and Keith and Lance rolled away to opposite sides of the hallway, ducking behind alcoves in the wall.

“Allura, you take Haggar. We’ll deal with the druids!” Keith shouted.

Allura cracked her whip and charged, teeth bared.

Lance locked eyes with Keith as the blasts of purple lightning shot between them. He made several hand signs and gestures, raising his brows.  _Got it?_

Keith smiled, nostalgia pulling at his lips, and _thank fuck_ —he nodded.

_Got it._

Lance tossed him his bayard.

 

* * *

 

Lance was a fucking _martyr_ , okay?

Standing there, offering himself up as bait and getting electrocuted for _years,_ waiting patiently for Keith to drop down from the ventilation shaft and slice those motherfuckers to pieces—he deserved a fucking statue.

Finally, Keith had burst from the ceiling wielding both Black and Red weapons and stabbed the druids simultaneously—that ambidextrous legend.

The druids burst into ashes.

“No!” Haggar wailed.

Lance sagged to the floor, moaning, and Keith rushed to his side. “You okay?”

“I feel like a fried egg.”

Keith released a breathy chuckle and helped him to his feet. 

Allura cried out to their right, slamming into the wall, remnants of dark energy sparking around her.

“Allura!” Lance hissed, stepping toward her.

She rolled back to her feet, hair wild, eyes narrowed into slits.  Her hands glowed, and Haggar retreated a few steps, wary.  “Go.  I’ll handle her.”

“ _What_??”

She turned to them, jerking her head toward the end of the corridor.  “Go shut down the shield.  I'll be okay.”

Lance glanced at Keith, hesitant to leave her behind.

Keith exhaled sharply.  “As soon as the shield is down, you get out of here."

She nodded, facing Haggar again, her whole body glowing with celestial energy.  “Send Lotor my regards.”

 

* * *

 

They made it to the helm without much trouble.  Clearly, Lotor hadn’t anticipated trouble aboard his ship—they’d only had to fight a dozen droids so far. 

When they stumbled onto the bridge, they were met with…empty space.

The room was vacant.  Lotor was nowhere in sight. 

“Too easy,” Lance murmured as they jogged over to the controls.

Keith placed his hand on the control panel, the Galra tech recognizing his signature.  “I’m in."

Lance pushed the speaker on his com.  “Pidge? Hunk? How you doing?”

“Good,” Pidge responded.  “We took out the sentinels up here, and we’ve got the thing detached.   We’re just waiting for the green light.”

Lance breathed out.  “Good job, guys.”

“Good job, indeed.”

Lance froze.

Behind them, Lotor stood with his broadsword at his side, smiling. 

Lance glanced at Keith, who had refused to turn around, working quickly on the controls.  His shoulders tense.  His eyes wide.

He was afraid.

“Ah, Black Paladin.  Do you quiver at the sound of my voice?”

Keith closed his eyes, and Lance couldn’t take the look on his face.

“You're one egotistical bastard, aren't you,” Lance muttered, standing between the prince and Keith.  He raised his blaster to Lotor’s chest. 

One pull of the trigger, and the prince was peanut butter toast.

“Tell daddy I said hi,” Lance jeered, and he blasted Lotor in the chest.

Or.

He _should_ have.

A shield had instantly materialized in front of Lotor’s face—a shield not unlike the paladin’s own gauntlet technology.

Lotor grinned at him and charged.

“Fuck.”

Lance’s bayard transformed into his broadsword, and he met Lotor’s first strike just in time, the blades scraping across one another.  They stared at each other through the X of their swords. 

This fucker….

He’d taken Keith away. He’d tortured him.  He’d come to kill Lance’s family.  Destroy his home. 

Lance was going to _kill_ him.

They engaged in a fierce exchange of blows and parries.  Lotor was a far better swordsman than Lance, but Lance held his own. 

Barely.

“How’s it _going_ , Keith?” he pressed.

Keith sent him a panicked look. “I’m _trying_!  Pidge, if it’s not in the weapons directory, then where is it?!”

Pidge started screaming instructions in Lance’s ear, and he swore, dodging Lotor’s sword and certain decapitation.

Lotor kept trying to get around him—to get to Keith—but Lance forced him away from the helm the best he could. 

And Lotor was _losing_ it.

His hair was sticking out, wiry and greasy.  His face looked sunken in, like he’d aged ten years.  And his eyes—Lance could almost _see_ the quintessence swirling around in them, pulsing.

“You surprise me, Red Paladin.  I always thought you the most useless of the team,” Lotor spat, coming in again, merciless.

Lance’s arms hurt. 

And while Lance didn’t have _noodle_ arms, he sure has hell didn’t have the strength of a six foot Galran prince.

“People tend to underestimate me,” Lance replied, trying to bury his fear as Lotor began using brute force to advance.

Lotor smiled, and Lance didn’t realize why the bastard looked so happy until his ass hit the control desk. 

Shit.

“I got it!” Keith exclaimed from his right, and the screens lit up around them with the words:  _Shield deactivated._ “Go, Pidge! Allura, you too. Get out of here. Now!”

“No!!” Lotor bellowed, and he pushed Lance backward, bending him over the controls. Holding him down with the crossroads of their swords. 

And then he kicked Lance’s knee in.   _Hard_.

Lance barely heard the crack of bone over his scream.

 

* * *

 

“Lance!” Keith cried, heart dropping.

He watched Lance crumple to the ground, swearing profusely. 

Then Lotor turned on Keith, _seething._  

“M’ okay,” Lance choked out.   “Jus’…give me a minute…”

Keith drew his blade, finally locking gazes with Lotor.  “Don’t worry, Lance.  I’ll take it from here.”

“Such confidence,” Lotor said, amused. “And yet…I can see the fear in your eyes, paladin.  I remember it well.”

Keith gripped his sword tightly.  “You’ve lost, Lotor.  As we speak, your army is thinning.  We’ve taken your missile, and my friends are free.  _You’re_ the one who has something to fear.”

Lotor snarled, and they collided.

Keith quickly entered that realm of hyperfocus. 

Metal clashed. 

Swords clanged.

They grunted.

Lotor laughed.

He could distantly hear Lance and the others communicating over the comms—Allura had killed Haggar and had taken off with Blue, Pidge and Hunk were flying off with the missile—but the rest was lost.  His senses were reserved for this fight.

“Tell me, paladin. Do you dream of me in the dark of night?  Do you still feel the fire of my blade beneath your skin?   When the doors close, do you return to the frail, weak thing in the prison cell, begging for death?”

Keith winced, missing a step.

Lotor flashed a smile. “Oh? Have I struck a nerve?”

He had.

“The trouble is, paladin, you didn’t value your life enough to be a useful prisoner.  You were no fun.  Too difficult to break.  But I _wonder_ …” His yellow eyes shifted to Lance, and Keith felt his gut plummet.  “Would you be more interesting if I targeted something you _do_ care for?”

His fear gave him away.

Lotor laughed maniacally and moved for Lance, whose eyes widened in alarm.

Keith couldn’t breathe around the knot in his throat. 

_Not Lance._

_Not Lance._

He stumbled in front of Lotor, shielding Lance from his assault.  Metal clashed again, but it was a bad angle.  And Lotor knew it.

Before Keith could bring his sword around to defend himself properly, Lotor struck again—cutting straight across Keith’s upper ribcage, just below his arm. 

Straight through his _armor_.

 

* * *

 

 

Land stared helplessly as Keith staggered backward, clutching his side. 

“Keith?”

“I’m fine,” he got out, but he was swaying. _Teetering._

Lotor grinned, stepping closer to Keith, closer to Lance, who lay on the ground, slumped against the control desk.  Useless.

Keith blocked the next few blows sluggishly, weakly.

He was only defending now. 

He wasn’t attacking anymore.

He couldn’t.

He didn’t have the _strength_.

And Lance didn’t have the strength to take his place.  Not with the bone sticking out of his leg. His eyes searched the ground around him, landing on his bayard a few feet away.

“The great Black Paladin.  What a _disgrace_." 

Lotor shoved Keith backward, and the paladin lost his balance, falling back onto Lance’s chest, yelping in pain. 

"Keith?"

He lay on top of him, his back to Lance’s chest, pressing into him—shielding him from Lotor, who stood above them now, eyes ablaze.

“I’m sorry, Lance,” Keith said, leaning his head back against Lance’s shoulder.  Giving in.

Lotor pointed his sword at their faces, his body twitching with raw quintessence. “You’ve lost, paladins.”

Keith tensed, bracing for death.

But Lance’s lips pulled upward. “You sure about that?”

Lotor’s brows pinched in confusion, and then Lance whipped his bayard out from behind his back and blasted the prince square in the chest.

“Vrepit sa, motherfucker.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lotor lay on the ground, clutching at the giant hole in his chest, coughing up blood.

Keith was silent for a moment, speechless.

And then he _laughed_.

“Lance. What the fuck.”

Lance snickered, knocking their helmets together. “I had the shot. I _took_ it.”

Keith laughed again, but it sounded more painful this time.  Gently, Lance rolled him to the side and onto his back to get a better look at him. 

Keith's black and gray armor had been crushed by Lotor’s sword, and blood coated his entire torso. 

Lance pressed his hand against the wound, and Keith swore, trembling in pain.

“Shit. Shit, okay, we need to get out of here.”

There was a gurgled noise from their left. 

Lotor, still gripping tightly to the world. 

Lance scowled.  “Man, won’t you just die already? Jesus _Christ.”_

Keith narrowed his eyes, turning his head to look at the prince. “Lance. _Listen_.”

Lance watched Lotor’s lips move, and he realized he wasn’t just choking on blood.

He was saying something. 

“Voice recognition complete,” said a Siri-like voice from the speakers of the ship.  “What is your request?”

Fuck.

Lance crawled toward Lotor, his gun in his hand. 

Lotor spat up more blood, and he gasped out his last three words.

“Activate code: Failsafe."

Lance shot him in the head, splattering his Galra brains all over the floor and that white, pristine hair.

But it was too late.

“Code: Failsafe. _Activated.”_

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Red lights started flashing around them, an alarm ringing throughout the bridge.

“What did he do?” Lance asked warily, looking back at Keith. 

"I don't know.  Nothing _good."_

And then the ship lurched forward.

 

* * *

 

 

The room tilted on its axis, and Lance and Keith slid across the floor of the ship, slamming into the side of the wall. 

Lance swore at the pain that shot up his leg, and Keith groaned next to him.  

“What’s _happening_?” Lance cried, sitting up to look out the cockpit window.

He paled.

They were shooting full-speed ahead.

At _Earth_.

“It must be on autopilot,” Keith said, still lying flat on the floor, breathing shakily.  “Lotor’s failsafe was crashing the ship and the missile into Earth.”

Lance stared at him. 

“Can we stop it?”

Keith gazed at the other end of the room and the control panel, shaking his head. “Not enough time.”

Right. First they’d have to _make_ it back to the panel, and then they’d have to navigate the directory with Pidge’s instruction.

Not nearly enough time.

Lance gripped at Keith to pull himself closer to the paladin, gathering his limp body in his arms.  “Okay.  We just need to get to the hangar.  Our lions will get us out. We can do this.” 

He attempted to stand, to lift Keith with him, but his leg was shit, and he collapsed under their weight, groaning in pain. 

Fucking….hell.

His pulse thrummed across his head and body, screaming at him.

“…Lance?”

He sat up again, biting his lip to keep the sob in _.   Get it together.  Keith needs you._   “I’m okay.”  He drew Keith back into his lap, looking around for resources. _Anything._    Maybe he could blast a hole in the ship and they’d just be…sucked out into space?  He wished he would have paid more attention to his physics class.

“We’re okay.  We’ve been here before. We’ve make it out of shit worse than this.”

“Have we?” Keith murmured. 

_Not helping._

Lance swallowed. The ship was on a fast-track toward a burning atmosphere, and Keith was bleeding out beside him.  Lance might have been able to limp back to his lion, but he couldn’t carry Keith along. 

What were they supposed to _do_?

“Okay!” came Pidge’s voice.  “We’re hanging out by Saturn.  Missile is neutralized.  What’s happening?”

“I...is that....is that the ship??" Allura cried, laser blasts and explosions muffling her words.

"What? What's happening to the ship?"Hunk asked.

"It's hurtling toward Earth!  What’s going on?!” Allura shouted.

“What do you mean it’s hurtling toward _Earth?”_ Hunk yelled.  “Is Lotor going Kamikaze on us?”

“Keith, report,” Shiro demanded, a lilt of desperation in his voice.  “Where are you?”

“...On the ship,” Keith said thickly, gazing up at Lance, somber.    

“What?!” they all cried.

“Well get _off_ the ship,” Shiro hissed.  “It’s going down!”

“Why are you still on the ship?!” Hunk yelled.  “Are you guys oka—“

Lance yanked off his helmet. 

He needed to _think_.

He didn’t have a weapon powerful enough to tear through the helm.  Blue was down on Earth, unable to teleport them out of here.  Allura was gone.

He could feel the inertia of the ship, taking them closer, _closer_. 

Shit. 

Shit, shit, shit.  

Keith reached up and grabbed the back of Lance’s neck, forcing him to look down at him.  Lance didn’t like the look in his eye. 

“Lance...you need to go.  Before we hit the atmosphere.”

Lance stared down at him, eyes wide with shock.  Then _fury_. 

“Like hell.”

“Lance, you _have_ to go,” Keith hissed, his eyes watering, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth.  “Get to your lion.  I know you can make it without me.”

“No.”

“You fucking—you have a family to get back to,” Keith said, shoving at Lance’s chest angrily. Too weak to even budge the paladin.  “You have a life down there.  Get out of here while you can.”

“I am _not_ leaving you, asshole,” Lance said.  Keith’s eyes glistened as the ship shook around them.  “Till the end. That’s what I said. Remember?”

“Lance...” he begged.

“ _Keith_.”

Keith stared up at the conviction on Lance’s face, and he must have realized there was no talking him out of this because he closed his eyes, swearing. 

“You and me.  Till the end,” Lance repeated.  Even if the end was closer than they'd thought.  

Keith ducked his head into Lance’s chest.  “ _Dammit, Lance.”_

Lance closed his eyes, sending his final thoughts to his lion.  _Take Black and get out of here, Red.  We’re not gonna make it._

Refusal.  Stubbornness.  Pain.

_Red.  It’s my last order. Do as I say.  Please._

The lion wanted to resist him, but Lance could feel his resolve crumbling.

_It’s been an honor.  Now go._

Pain. Guilt.  Respect. 

Grudgingly, Red flew out the hangar with Black—he could see it in his mind’s eye—and Lance suspected Keith must have been having the same conversation with his own lion.

“I love you, Keith,” Lance whispered against the boy's temple, blinking the water out of his eyes.  It grew hot around them.  Fire danced in the windows.

“I love you too.” 

They held each other as the ship hurdled through the turbulent atmosphere. Alarms blaring. 

Lance curled his hand around his bayard, crushing his eyes together. 

The metal floor grew hot beneath them, the ship shaking as it was ripped apart.  Keith clutched tight to Lance through it all, never letting go.

The world turned molten, and then everything went dark.

 

* * *

 

 

.

.  

.  

.

 

* * *

 

Lance was in pain.

His limbs were sore, and his throat was dry.  There was a stale taste on his tongue, like he hadn’t brushed his teeth in a while.

Slowly, his other senses returned to him, and he recognized the soft mattress against his spine and the smell of antiseptic in the air.

He opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was the ceiling of the Garrison hospital wing. 

The second was Hunk and Pidge, clad in casual wear, their relieved faces becoming clearer as he blinked away the haze of anesthesia.

“Hey, man,” Hunk said softly, on the verge of tears.  “You made it.”

“Barely,” Pidge added with a shaky breath, removing her glasses so she could wipe the water out of her eyes. “You had us scared to death.  For the _third_ time.”

Lance frowned as he tried to remember what had happened.

Then his eyes shot wide, and he sat bolt upright.

“ _Keith_.”

Moving that fast had sent a pounding pain through his skull, and for a second, he was blinded by black spots.

_Keith._

_Keith._

_Keith._

“Is he…” Lance couldn’t even get it out.  He blinked hard, willing away the spots.   “Is he…?”

Hunk placed his heavy hands on Lance’s shoulders, holding him in place. “He’s fine, Lance.  He’s okay.  We won.”

Lance was overwhelmed by the sheer force of emotion those words produced.  He shuddered, fresh tears spilling out of his eyes.  “He’s alive?”

“Thanks to you,” Pidge said.  “We found you both in the wreckage, surrounded in scraps of your bayard.  You’d willed it to form a kind of bomb shelter.  It’s the only reason you survived impact.“

Keith was okay. Keith was _alive_.

Lance swallowed his sob and moved out from under Hunk’s grip, thrusting off the blankets.  He needed to see him.  He need to see for himself that Keith was alive and breathing and okay.

He placed his feet on the floor, wincing at the pain that shot up his leg.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Hunk said, moving in front of him.  “You’ll see him soon, buddy. But for now, both of you need to rest.”

“Hunk, I love you, but if you don’t get the _fuck_ out of my way, I will lay you flat,” Lance growled, attempting to stand.  Hunk tried to gently push him back on the bed, but Lance wasn’t having it.  He dodged Hunk’s large arms and ran around him only to be intercepted by an incredulous Pidge. 

“Lance, your vitals are still low. You can barely even walk—“

Then the door slammed open and Keith stood there, wrapped in gauze and bandages, still connected to an IV and a bunch of other tubes, wild-eyed.

He was pale and bruised and probably broken.  But he was breathing. 

 _Trembling_.

His gaze landed on Lance, and he braced himself against the wall, releasing a shaky breath of relief.

Lance raced—limped—around Pidge to hug him, and they crashed together, both hissing in pain as they did so.

Over Keith’s shoulder, Shiro appeared, gripping Keith’s IV stand.

“I tried to stop him,” he muttered.

“Us too,” Hunk said, but Lance could hear the smile on their lips.

Lance buried his face into Keith’s shoulder, holding him tight, impossibly tight.  Cradling the back of his head. Keith sobbed into his neck, fingers digging into the back of his shirt.

They’d both thought that was it. 

But they’d _made_ it.

They’d made it.

“I thought we’d bit it," Lance said.

Keith choked out a sound that might have been a laugh if he weren't crying.  “Me too.”

Lance threaded his fingers through Keith’s dark hair, inhaling deeply. 

_They’d made it. They’d made it. They’d made it._

 

“I don’t think I can let go,” Lance whispered, aware that they’d been hugging for a while now, that their friends were standing there, watching them mend.

Keith smiled into his skin, clutching tight.  “Then _don’t_.”

 

* * *

 

2 Days Later

 

* * *

 

Lance sat on his hospital bed, leaning back against the pile of cushions. 

The room was dimly lit, illuminated by his bedside lamp and the blue light of his computer screen.

“How are you feeling?” his mother asked, sipping on a cup of tea.

“Much better.  Allura healed my leg up just fine.  We’re just waiting for the bone to get its strength back.  So I’m pretty much wheelchair-bound right now.”

She raised a brow. “Are you acting responsibly with that wheelchair?”

Lance snorted softly.  “I…may have engaged in a racing contest with Pidge.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mijo…”

Lance smiled.  “But…I’m good, Ma.  I’m really good.”

Lotor was gone. The threat was gone.    

And they could all rest easy for a while.

And _nap_.

His mother beamed.  “I’m so proud of you, Lance.  I know your father and grandmother would be too.”

Lance’s chest tightened at that. God, he hoped so.   “I can’t wait to see you, ma.”

The Garrison was flying his entire family up for a big ceremony.  Apparently, the paladins were being awarded with Medals of Honor. The president was coming and everything.  It was a big ass deal.

Lance and his family were going to be interviewed by a bunch of different news anchors, and Lance had pleaded with his mother to forbid Luis or Jessica from taking part.  He just knew they’d keep him humble by telling the world all about his embarrassing faults.

She clasped her hands together.  “Oh, I can’t wait either!  I’m bringing you another care package with all kinds of things. Tortillas…empanadas…cookies…”

Lance laughed.  “Have I ever told you you're my favorite person in the whole world?”

She grinned, pleased with herself.  “I am also looking forward to seeing Hunk and Pidge.”

Lance nodded. “You’re gonna love them.  And you’ll be able to see Allura and Shiro again too.”

His mother pressed her lips together. “And...Keith?”

Lance felt his face warm at the knowing look on her face.  

He glanced down at the weight on his arm—the body tucked against his side, buried in blankets and Lance’s hoodie.

Something about seeing Keith in his clothes was just…so unbelievably _satisfying_.

Keith had been particularly clingy since everything happened, staying close to Lance’s side, sleeping beside him, always seeking some point of contact.  Lance was _floored._

He drew a bit of hair out of Keith’s face, sweeping his thumb over the boy’s cheek, the scar there. 

“Yeah.  And Keith.”

His mother smiled.  “Happiness is a good look on you, mijo.”

Flushing, Lance said his goodbyes, and he shut the laptop, setting it aside, careful not to wake Keith or Blue, who sat at the base of the bed, taking up way too much space.  Lance turned off the light and settled back down against the pillows.  He wrapped his arm around his boyfriend, his other arm long since numb and dead beneath Keith’s head. 

—A worthy sacrifice.

Lance breathed him in, the scent of space and desert and hair product. Something else distinctly Keith.

He closed his eyes, smiling.

It had taken a long time to get here.  To get where he wanted.  To become who he wanted to be.  Love who he wanted to love.  

It had taken pain.  And patience.

But in the end, he supposed Jessica had been right.

_It was worth it._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flails. 
> 
> Do you see…the word count…on this fucking monster of a fic??? And there was so much more I could have written in it??? Goddamn. I’ve been working on my own novel for years and it’s only got 80,000 words lmao wut. 
> 
> I’m waiting for the final season to air. And then I’m writing an epilogue, because I know I won’t be able to think about anything else. I’ll be choking on my own word vomit.
> 
> I was thinking an Adam x Shiro wedding for the last chapter, but I’m not sure…it will depend on how upset I am after the 14th. (What fluff would you all like to see? Tell me if you have any burning questions that I forgot to address!)
> 
> FYI I’ve literally got so many more Klance fic ideas and a few already in the works. Nothing this big. But a few good stories. I’ll let you know the premises next time, and you can tell me what you’d like to see next. 
> 
> ALSO. I’m making a video edit to this fic (plus a few generic Voltron tribute videos on the way). I’ve got about half of it done, but the manips are taking forever. I’m super excited to share it with you guys. Make sure you check out my YouTube channel a few weeks after the final season – I’ll be sure to share the link on here as well. Or just follow me on some sort of social media so I can keep you posted. 
> 
> (I'm gtgrandom on both YouTube and tumblr.)
> 
>  
> 
> [ART ](http://gtgrandom.tumblr.com/post/180775096619/quick-sketch-from-my-fic-coming-to-terms)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that happened. 
> 
> This epilogue is kind of half-assed, I’m really sorry. I just…I’m so done with this series. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so disappointed by a show I used to love. I’m so sad because I’ll never look back on this show fondly? And that is heartbreaking.
> 
> If you’ve seen my tumblr/YouTube, you already know my take on the season. But to summarize:
> 
> They wasted Lance. He could have been so memorable, but they didn’t give him any substance beyond his insta-love or his unaddressed insecurities. And he ended up alone on a farm? As a Latina I am just….sick. Ya’ll can argue that it was what he needed to heal, but there are tons of ways he could have healed (see: this fic) without making him a literal farmer without a reputation, lovesick for a girl he’d lost, with marks to remind him of it every single day???? 
> 
> Keith. My boy deserved so much love. While I’m glad he didn’t rush in to save Shiro for the millionth time, I expected some sort of exchange between the two? They acted like fellow officers, not brothers. And don’t even get me started on Allura’s arc. Or Lotor. Or our lgbt rep.
> 
> That being said, I’m grateful for the voice actors and the studio’s beautiful animation, as well as the diverse set of characters (with some top quality humor thrown in there; thank you Pidge and Coran.) I’m even more grateful for fandom and fanfic writers for fleshing these characters out. I think the writers could have done so much more with this concept, and the plot fell short, especially where romance/friendship is concerned. Goddamn even Young Justice had more comradery and there were like a bazillion characters. 
> 
> The lesson here? I think creators need to learn how to be transparent with their audience. Be honest about lgbt rep. If it’s not there, fine, but don’t get my hopes up for an end-credits scene. Do I care that Klance isn’t canon? Hell no. I do care that I actually thought they had a chance – bruh I literally never do this; Klance is one of my only m/m ships without explicit canon evidence. I care that the creators never denied the possibility. That they relied on Klance advertising, they banked on Lance being someone’s “first choice” and hinted at the fact that Allura would have no endgame when in reality she…just died. Tell me flat out that it’s far-fetched, and I’ll ship it without any expectations. Don’t try to suck me in when you know the end result. That’s why I’m really disappointed, and honestly? That’s why they deserve the backlash.
> 
> Never thought I’d live to see another Zutara, but alas, here we are. At least non-canon ships usually last longer in fanon because fandom just burns with bitterness and spite for years and years. I’m looking forward to the content. ^^ 
> 
> Anyway. I’m sure if you’re here, you needed something to heal the blow of this season, or you just want to finish this fic so you can finally cut your ties to this fandom. So here’s some garbage fluff.
> 
> .

Lance leaned against the wall, observing his boyfriend as he greeted the guests.

The best man was dressed to the nines—a black tux that fit him perfectly, hair tied back and bangs all… _flowy_.  He never failed to take Lance’s breath away.

“And that’s…everybody,” Keith said, mostly to himself, slumping against the side of the door.  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “…I hate this.”

Lance chuckled, taking Keith’s free hand and leading him out of the venue into the garden. 

Shiro and Adam had chosen to hold their wedding on Earth for the sake of their Garrison friends, and in Cuba, for the sake of Lance’s family, which Lance (and Lance’s mother) were eternally grateful for.   

The ceremony was to take place on the beach, and they were all staying in a five-star resort for free because they were the fucking paladins of Voltron.  The title definitely came with its perks.   

Lance pulled Keith toward a bench and forced him to sit for a minute.   Keith promptly fell into Lance’s lap and stared up at him helplessly.  “I’m so stressed out.”

“I know. But you’re doing great, man.  _Stellar_.”

Keith covered his face with his hand, exhaling through his nose.  “Why did Shiro pick _me_ to do this??”

Lance chuckled, running his fingers through Keith’s hair soothingly.  “Because you’re his _brother_?”  When Keith just groaned, Lance smiled.  “If you can survive an alien space war, you can survive a few more hours of best man duties.”

Keith sighed.  “Can we go through the checklist one more time?”

Lance rolled his eyes and pulled his phone out of his vest pocket, opening his notes.  “Okay. Groomsmen all here?

“Check.”

“Officiant?”

“Check.”

“First toast?”

“Memorized.”

Lance smiled. “Alright.  How about the rings?”

Keith smacked his pocket. 

Once. 

Twice.

And then he went very still.

Lance’s eyes widened. “…Keith?”

Keith removed his hand from his face, revealing an expression of pure terror. “Lance…”

Oh _shit_.

Lance swallowed. “Okay. It’s okay. We’ve got time to search—”

Keith sat upright, hands flying to his hair, tugging at his bangs. “Shit.  _Shit_!”

“Calm down.  Where do you think you left them?”

Keith turned on him, and he looked like he was about to cry. “I…don’t know.  I know I had them in the hotel room last night.  I had them set out so I wouldn’t fucking _forget.”_

Lance glanced back down at his phone. “Okay. Okay, we’ve got twenty minutes.  You think they’re still there?”

“You think we can get back in time?” Keith asked.

“The wedding can’t really happen without them, buddy.”

Keith gave him a withering look.

Lance grinned and took his hand.  “Come on.”

 

* * *

 

Lance barely beat Keith to the door.  Good thing or the guy probably would have brought it down with his body slam.

They pushed inside, and Keith darted to the bed.  He frowned at Lance’s _Vogue_ magazine draped over the bedside table, lifting it to reveal two hidden ring cases.  

Keith glared at him, chucking the magazine at his face. “ _Lance_!”

Lance dodged it, lifting his hands innocently. “I didn’t know you put them there!  You know I like to read a few pages before bed. You shouldn’t have put them on my _reading_ _table_!”

Keith shook his head and removed the rings from the case, holding them in his palm.  He breathed out, gazing down at them curiously.

A bit _softly_.

Lance quirked a brow.  “What’s with that face?”

Keith shrugged.  “Always thought weddings were pretty stupid.  Marriage in general, really.”

Lance snorted, drawing closer. “I hope _that’s_ not in your speech.”

Keith smirked, glancing up at him. “No…I just…seeing Shiro today, so happy. I guess it’s not _that_ bad?”

Lance swallowed, taking one of the silver bands out of Keith’s palm—Adam’s.   He’d helped Shiro pick it out.  In fact, he’d tried it on, showing Shiro how beautiful it would look on his fiancé’s own hand.  He’d even helped negotiate a price, adamant on _this_ ring.  Because it was _perfect_.

He eyed his boyfriend, amused.  “Keith, are you dropping hints that you’re ready to get hitched?”

Keith stilled, eyes shooting wide.  “What? No! Obviously _not_. I just…if you really wanted to, someday, I wouldn’t…hate it.”

Lance smiled knowingly, and Keith huffed, looking away.

Lance hummed, taking Keith’s empty left hand and turning it over.  He slid the silver ring over his slender finger, twisting it to reveal a ribbon of space crystals.

Keith’s breath hitched, and he looked up at Lance, wary. 

Lance’s eyes twinkled.  “Keith Texas Kogane…”

“That’s not my middle name.”

“Sorry. Keith _Yorak_ Kogane.”

“ _Lance_.”

Lance laughed, keeping his grip taut on Keith’s hand lest he pull away.  His teasing smile faded a little, and his voice dropped.  “Keith…you’re everything to me.  You’re my _best_ _friend_.  And someday…if you want to…I’d _really_ like to marry my best friend.”

Keith blinked at him with wide, violet eyes.   “Are you _proposing_?”

“I’m _proposing_ a proposal.”

He looked a little relieved, and then maybe a little disappointed.  “Hm.”

Lance gaped.  “ _Hm_??  That’s all you have to—”

He was cut off by Keith’s lips.  Warm and tender and…firm.  Lance’s eyes fluttered shut, and he smiled against Keith’s mouth.     

Then the bastard sat back on his heels, grinning that smug grin that tugged on Lance’s heart.  “You know…someday, I might just say yes.”

Lance released a fond breath, leaning in for another kiss, but then his phone buzzed, and reality came crashing down around them.

“Shit, what time is it?” Keith asked, fist curling around Shiro’s ring.

“We’ve still got about ten minutes,” Lance said.  “That was Pidge.  She asked if we were fucking in a broom closet, which— _rude_! I’d settle for nothing less than a storage room.  She should know that."

Keith rolled his eyes, and Lance grinned, turning for the door.  He was halfway out of the room when he heard a cautious, “Uh…Lance?”

Lance turned, and his gut plummeted.

Keith looked fucking horrified.

“ _What_?”

Keith pulled at Adam’s ring on his finger, but it didn’t come off.

It didn’t _budge._

It was stuck.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my _god_.”

Keith made a pained sound as he tugged on the band. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

Lance surged forward, taking Keith’s hand in his, trying to pry the thing off himself.  “What the fuck?? Why do you have such fat fingers?”

“They aren’t fat, you dick!” Keith cried, swatting at Lance to stop manhandling him. “And it’s your fault? Why the hell would you put another man’s ring on your _boyfriend’s_ finger??”

Lance glared back at him. “I was trying to be romantic!”

“Oh, yeah, Lance, this is real fucking _romantic_.”

“Shut up!”

Lance released him, and Keith went stumbling backward, swearing. “Shiro’s going to kill me.”  His eyes widened. “I’m gonna have to chop off my finger, aren't I?”

Lance shook his head. “Okay, edgelord, that’s a hard _no_.  We’ll…we’ll figure this out.  We just need something to help...lubricate it.”

Keith glanced up sharply, gaze snagging on Lance’s. 

“ _No_.”

“But—“

“We aren’t using _lube_ on Adam's wedding ring, Lance!”

“Fine,” Lance sighed. He rushed to his bag, pulling out his most prized possessions—his moisturizers and face creams.  “Bingo. I think sunscreen will work, yeah?”

He glanced back at Keith, who was knocking his head against the wall, fruitlessly trying to pry the ring off. 

“Keith, stop. You’re going to dislocate your finger.”

“Maybe that would help.”

“Could you stop being _emo_ for like three seconds?”

Lance spun the man around and squirted a few drops onto Keith’s finger, both of them rubbing it in frantically.  Then Lance started twisting the ring around Keith’s knuckle. 

Keith hissed in pain, and Lance paused, but Keith nodded for him to keep going, swearing under his breath. 

The minutes were ticking down, but finally, _finally_ , the ring popped off.

Little _fucker_.

They stared down at it, then at each other, flushed and panting—both of them close to tears.

Then Keith bit his lip, and Lance’s eyes pinched, both of them trying to hold it in. 

They doubled over in laughter.

 

* * *

  

It had been over two years since Lotor attacked Earth, and in that time, the paladins had found their places in the universe. 

Acxa, Ethrid, and Ezor had recovered from battle, and the Coalition had pardoned them on the condition that they agree to a peace treaty and help establish a democracy within the Galra Empire.  The Blade vowed to work beside them and the Coalition in order to end the war for good and restore the reputation of Galra civilization.   Keith was at the forefront of this operation, finally accepting his heritage and the role only a Galra half-breed could fulfill. 

Really, though, while Keith enjoyed his work with the Galra, his real passion appeared to manifest in his visits to Galra orphanages, full of children whose parents had died in the war—as soldiers or civilians.   The first chance Keith got to slip away from a meeting, he’d visit the kids.  He’d told Lance he planned on finding them all homes one day. 

Hunk still lived in the loft of his non-profit restaurant with Shay, providing humanitarian relief.  Sometimes he would accompany Keith on his missions to help build rapport and clientele.  He’d also become close with all of Commander Bogh’s men and helped break the tension when Keith needed it. 

Pidge was working with Matt and the Olkari to integrate teludav technology across the universe.  She was also working on a universal communication system that would permit direct messaging and transactions between galaxies without delay.    She pledged that once complete, her project would enhance diplomatic coordination and intergalactic data sharing.  With this system, Earth could help other planets develop clean energies and democracies, while foreign aids could assist with Earth’s climate and poverty.  It was revolutionary, although none of them expected any less from the Holts.

Pidge also confessed that it would allow her to watch Netflix from Olkari, which may or may not have been the underlying objective all along.

But despite the vision of collaboration and peace, there were still conflicts. 

Lance had learned from Lox and Hunk that war wasn’t over the second the fighting ended.  There was still resentment out there, wounds and scars and hatred.  Conflict over resources.  Dictators trying to rise from the ashes of imperialism. 

So Voltron was still needed, and so was Lance.

For the first nine months after the battle, Lance had decided to finish his communications degree in Havana, and Keith had come with him in hopes of recovering fully from his time as prisoner.  He’d even attended a few classes with Lance to help build his public speaking skills, and he’d taken a language course so he could better understand Lance's family and Cuban locals.  When he’d told Lance he’d signed up for an intensive Spanish course, Lance had absolutely _melted_. 

When Lance graduated, they’d decided to move to a house on a planet in the market sector—the same planet Allura had chosen to rebuild the Altean colony on outside the abyss.  The planet was at the center of the universe, not too far from their friends or family.  It was home base for them, a place to keep their lions safe from the greedy hands of men while allowing them to carry out their missions.  A place where Lance and Keith could meet up after a long week of traveling and spend lazy afternoons wrapped up in each other. 

By the end of the year, they’d decided it was time to return to the fight, where Keith could work with the Galra, and Lance could be the diplomat he’d always wanted to be—traveling from planet to planet with his lion, convincing people to get along.  He was good at it, poking fun at world leaders until they cracked a smile and agreed to a treaty, finding bizarre solutions to problems no one knew how to address.  And usually, if Allura wasn’t working to rule and rebuild the Altean colony with Coran and Romelle, she accompanied him, bringing her royal formality and expertise.  Together, they mended wounds of old and brought the universe closer to peace, closer to freedom.  Together, they became the best of friends.  

They became a _team_.

Meanwhile, down on Earth, Shiro was a captain of the Galaxy Garrison, and he loved it.  He’d always wanted to be a hero, a leader, a _paladin_ , and he could live out that dream beside Adam, his first lieutenant. 

His husband.

Lance gazed at the couple standing at the altar, smiling at one another, and he had to force back his tears.

“Now for the rings,” Coran declared, having thoroughly studied human wedding customs after Shiro asked him if he’d be interested in officiating the wedding. 

Keith stepped forward, side-eyeing Lance with a hidden smirk.

Shiro went first. 

“Adam and I have spent more time apart than we have together," he announced, "but he’s stuck with me for the rest of his life now.”

“ _Bubblegum_ ,” Lance mouthed, and Pidge snorted from the other side of the altar.   

Shiro slid the ring onto his fiancé’s hand.  “Adam, I’ve always known you were the only one for me.  Not because you’re perfect.  Or particularly _nice_ …”

There were snickers throughout the crowd.

“But because you’ve always seen me for _me_.  Not Shiro-the-heroic-space-cadet. Not the boy-with-the-disease.  You saw me when no one else did, and it was a bit scary, honestly, to be completely transparent around you.  To have someone know me so well.  Inside and out.  To see me and still want me, even if I didn’t make it to the end of the line.”  He smiled warmly.  “I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.  A better friend.”

Lance looked over at Keith, who was watching intently, eyes glistening in the setting sun.   

“The universe may be endless, but I see infinite possibilities with you, Adam.  You’re all I need. And all I’ll ever need.  I love you.”

Keith glanced at Lance then, gazes locking, and the edges of his mouth quirked upward.

“You’ve always been the sappy type,” Adam muttered, sniffling a little.  Wiping his eyes. “Ah, _fuck_.”

The audience chuckled, and Adam apologized for swearing.  He cleared his throat and lifted his chin.

“Shiro. We’ve been through a lot.  We were classmates.  Rivals.  Copilots.  Then coworkers.  Then _engaged_.  We survived alien kidnapping, fake deaths, and space war.  We waited nine years for each other.  I think that must break some kind of record."

Shiro swallowed, the emotion taking over his face, filling his eyes.  

“I finally thought I’d moved on without you.  Thought I’d finally found someone I could be happy with.  But then we got your message about an attack on Earth, your intent to come home, and I remembered what true happiness is.   It felt like I could breathe again, knowing I’d see you again, even if it was for a day.   You were coming back, and I knew I had to pin you down and speak my mind.”

“You almost murdered me,” Shiro contributed, and Adam huffed, smiling.

“We’ve weathered it tall, Takashi.  And with you here beside me, I know nothing can stop us.  I’m not afraid of anything when I’m with you.  Except maybe you’re horrible taste in hats.”

Shiro snorted. 

“I love you so much, Shiro.   More than anything.  And I thought I was the luckiest person to be able to spend the rest of your life with you.  But now…now I get to spend the rest of _my_ life with you, and there are no words for how happy that makes me.” He cleared his throat, blinking the tears away.  “So…you’re stuck with me too, Takashi.  And that makes you one lucky bastard.” 

Shiro laughed, genuine and light and _happy_.  

Coran smiled at Shiro, then at the crowd.  “By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you, spouses for life.”

They kissed, and the crowd erupted in claps and hurrahs, while Hunk burst into tears.

And as they walked down the aisle hand in hand, the sun hit the horizon, painting the beach and waves a golden pink, a warm coastal wind sweeping through the crowd and turning a final page.

 

* * *

 

 

The reception was fucking phenomenal—obviously, since Lance planned it all. 

The entire Holt family had come along with Krolia and Kolivan, Hunk’s parents, Romelle, Lox, the Garrison gang, a few members of the Coalition, and all of Lance’s family.  They hadn’t all been together in years—it was nice to see everyone in one place, laughing, drinking, smiling.

 _This is what family looks like_ , Lance had thought.

After the reception and two plates of Hunk’s cuisine, Lance spent a good twenty minutes trying to teach Lox how to dance, laughing at her confusion as to why people would engage in such an activity in the first place.  Krolia and Kolivan had indoctrinated her into the ways of the Blade, and now she was his little assassin off to wreak havoc on the world.

Lance was so proud.

Someone tapped his shoulder, and he tilted his head back.

“May I have a turn?” Allura asked, standing there in a soft blue summer dress, short hair pinned back with something that looked a lot like a juniberry flower.  

Lance glanced down at Lox for permission, but the Invenian was relieved to be done and bowed her head, stepping aside.

Lance took Allura’s hand, and she placed her own on his shoulder.

As they moved to the song fluidly, completely in sync, Lance couldn’t help but wonder if maybe each person had multiple soulmates in the world, each there to fill a different part of his soul. 

Hunk was Lance’s oldest friend, the person he went to in order to remember who he was, who he’d always been.  Pidge teased him ruthlessly. She made him humble, but she also made him stronger.  He _had_ to be if he wanted to protect her.  Shiro was, in many ways, a father figure—and not in an entirely sarcastic way either.  He’d taught Lance patience and diplomacy.  He’d taught him that it was okay to love who he wanted to love.  He’d taught him what love _looked_ like. 

Allura was the light in a world of darkness, the hope in a broken universe.  She’d taught him sacrifice, and bravery.  She’d filled a void in his heart, a place reserved for female companionship, for platonic love—a love that could never die. 

And Keith?

Keith filled in all the gaps. 

Keith _completed_ him.

“You two seem very happy,” Allura observed, eyes flicking to the Black Paladin.  Keith sat at one of the guest tables, laughing at Luis’s flirtatious antics.  Radiant, as always.

Lance grinned, twisting her around, her blue dress lifting around her a like a poppy flower. “We are.” 

He studied her pleased expression, the Altean marks on her cheeks that seemed to glow in the evening light. 

“Are you? _Happy_?”

She smiled easily, squeezing his hand.  “I am.  I love seeing my people thrive again. Seeing them work with Keith and the Galra.  It’s what my father would have wanted.”

“He would be so _proud_ of you, Allura,” he told her, tilting his head forward, earnest.  “Of what you’ve accomplished.  What you’ve done for your people…and mine.”

Her eyes brightened. “As would yours.”

They shared a soft, understanding smile, and then Lance dipped her backward, cackling at her yelp of startled surprise.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith slowly opened his eyes to the soft hues of morning light. 

He hadn’t slept in this late in a while.  He blamed it on the stress of the wedding…yeah, and the toxic amount of alcohol he’d consumed last night probably had something to do with it.  Damn Adam and his drinking games.

The hotel was quiet, but Keith could hear the ocean outside, the distant shrieks of young children in the waves.  The world slowly coming to life around them.

He turned away from the window, eyes taking in the boy beside him.

Lance lay on his stomach with his dark hair all astray, warm light rippling over his tan skin.  A small smile on the man’s face.

It was an image Keith had seen before.  A prophecy that had come true.

Happiness bloomed in his chest.

“You checking me out?” Lance whispered out of the quiet, startling Keith slightly.

“…Yeah.”

Lance cracked an eye open, an impish grin on his face.

“Just making sure.”

Keith leaned in, and Lance welcomed the kiss, humming into his mouth. 

He pulled back suddenly, alarmed.  “Keith. Oh my god.  Drunk me forgot to moisturize—“

Keith yanked him back in before Lance could reach a state of panic.  The distraction seemed to work. 

Lance chuckled into his mouth and rolled them over, pinning Keith to the bed with his warm, half-naked body and a pile of sheets between them. 

He grinned down at him, hair mussed, freckled shoulders bared to the world.

Keith grinned back, sliding his hands up Lance’s arms.  “...I was thinking you should come with me to the next Galra HQ meeting."

Lance raised his brows. “Why?  I thought Acxa hated me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t get your sense of humor.”

“I’m pretty sure she just hates me,” Lance pressed, and Keith huffed.

“She’s…not used to you yet.  But I don’t care what she thinks. I want you to come.” He looked up at him, and Lance's face softened when he realized it was a genuine request.  “Plus, the kids really want to see you again.  They keep badgering me about the Red Paladin, and it’s fucking annoying.”

Lance snorted, slowly drawing one arm over them, cocooning them in a golden bed-sheet.  A tent to block out the rest of the world. 

“Count me in, Mullet.  This time I’m going to teach them how to play _capture the flag_.”

Keith glared at him.  “That’s not funny, Lance.”

Lance laughed anyway, blue eyes lighting up with an old, competitive sparkle.  “Yeah it is.”

Keith shook his head, grabbing hold of the sheets on either side of Lance’s head and tugging, bringing Lance down to hover over his mouth, both of them smiling now.   

“No it _isn’t_.”

Lance grazed his nose against Keith’s, body shuddering with repressed laughter.

Keith knew Lance wanted to get married someday.  He was a sappy romantic who wanted a big wedding and a honeymoon and all the ridiculous stuff that comes with it.  Keith had known that since the beginning—he’d known what he was getting into.  And he’d do _anything_ for Lance. 

So when Lance had almost proposed to him yesterday, he’d almost _murdered_ him. 

Because Keith already _had_ an engagement ring tucked away in his lion.  He’d already asked Lance’s mother for his hand.  

He didn’t know when he would ask—a few months from now, a few years from now—it didn’t really make a difference.

This was Keith’s future.  _Lance_ was his future.

And he’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

 

. 

 

                                                                   

 

End.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KICK, bitches. 
> 
> First, here’s the video edit I made to this story if you haven’t seen it yet: ["Klance//I'll be waiting" ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2JQQCHswmLc&lc=z23mt15x0krgtrm5m04t1aokgpsawhojugba1fys1pcrbk0h00410)
> 
> Second, here's the art: [X](http://gtgrandom.tumblr.com/post/181285476829/cries-because-my-boys-deserved-the-world)  
>    
> Third, I’ve got a TON of klance fic ideas, but I’m just…really sick of Voltron right now, so it might be a while before I post a fic? I’ll also be out of the country next semester so I have no idea how much time I’ll have to write, if any. 
> 
> Regardless, here’s some of my ideas, most of which just completely ignore season 8:
> 
> \- The war is over, and to seal the alliance between Voltron and the Galra Empire, an arranged marriage is proposed – Acxa, the new elected empress, and Keith, the Black Paladin. Keith figures he doesn’t have much to lose, and Lance is NOT on board. 
> 
> \- Modern AU. Lance finds out his girlfriend of two years is cheating on him, and he moves in with Keith while he tries to piece his life back together. *Oh my god they were roommates*
> 
> \- Allura and Lance are together, apparently. Keith decides he needs a distraction. James Griffin might just work. Or, Keith has a fuckbuddy, and Lance is very, very conflicted. 
> 
> \- Lance and Keith get stranded in the quantum abyss together. 
> 
> \- Lance’s dream is to become a concert pianist. Keith plays the cello in his university orchestra. Their instructor thinks pairing them together for a music competition is a genius idea. The boys wholeheartedly disagree. 
> 
> \- Lance wakes up six months in the future, and he is surprised to find that one very alarming detail has changed.
> 
> \- Mer AU (lmao never thought I’d fall this far). Lance, prince of Altea, hears his companion Blue in pain, held hostage by the humans, and goes to investigate. Keith works at the marine mammal rescue shelter, and when they take in an injured orca, he’s in for a real surprise. 
> 
> \- On a mission with Lance, Keith gets bitten by a lovebug, but to everyone’s surprise, he has no reaction. Lance is confused, and maybe a little disappointed.
> 
> \- Post-canon fic. Idk. I guess Keith coaxes Lance out of his shell and convinces him to stop living in the past. With Keith and Shiro’s help, Lance learns to let go. Not sure about this one yet because just thinking of canon makes me sick to my stomach. 
> 
> Let me know if any of these sound particularly interesting.
> 
> Finally, I just wanted to say thank you to all of you who have offered support throughout this beast of a fic. You are all seriously incredible, and it made this writing experience so much fun. Sorry I broke your hearts in Chapter 12, but I hope I made up for it by the end. 
> 
> Long live fanon, where our boys get the stories they deserved. 
> 
> -Erica


End file.
